


Upon that Night...

by Dagron



Series: The Fearless One & The Brave One [1]
Category: Brave (2012), Frozen (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-03-13 23:43:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3400580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dagron/pseuds/Dagron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Burns night was a time to celebrate their Scottish heritage, toast some poetry with hearty whisky, partake in the king of the puddin' race and ceilidh late into the night... Merida was anticipating a good night, surrounded by Tartan at the event her father was hosting, but she did not expect a guest to turn up wearing something decisively Scandinavian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Burns night suppers are overly inspiring and overwhelmingly Scottish.  
> Also any excuse for Ceilidh dancing is awesome.
> 
> This story is inspired quite heavily by some organised Burns night suppers I have witnessed and their venue, but no likeness to non-fictional individuals is intended. I am also afraid that my own Scots is nowhere near as fluent as that the cast of Brave has, let alone The Scottish Bard's. I've used an online translator to help a little. Hopefully it's not too much. Enjoy!

-

 

It was January the 25th, and for the DunBrochs and many others in Scotland, this meant Burns Night.   
  
"Bit maaw..." The whine came unbidden, reminiscent of a time too similar only four and a half years ago. "Dae ye hae tae fuss so?"  
  
Elinor DunBroch ignored the complaint, though she did pause momentarily in her wrestle with her daughter's curls, her hands becoming gentler as she pushed and tugged with the brush.  
"Ah dae wish you'd let me straighten yer locks."

 

"Ugh." Merida brought her hand up exasperatedly to her face. She was careful not to smudge the little makeup she had allowed her mother to force upon her visage. The young woman didn't want to be late because Elinor had to do it all again. It still didn't help distract from the horrible mental image of her looking like a drenched puppy. She couldn't see the appeal girls had for straightening their hair with irons, too much effort. Curls were easy, bar the odd tangled knot. "Ouch!"  
  
"There, that'll dae." Apparently satisfied, Elinor took a step back. The hands holding the brush came elegantly to rest at the front of her skirts. As her mother was taking her own appearance in, Merida grinned. Her mother really did look beautiful in Burns Night attire. A long flowing gown of blue satin that shimmered with carefully placed beads and sequins; it had accents of the teal and red family tartan in a sash, a slit, the shawl elegantly draped over the older woman's shoulders. Her mother's hair, which once would have been sculpted into some monstrously ornate up do for such an occasion, was loose, a barrette at the back that Merida had chosen stopping the strays from covering Elinor's face. Elinor's greying streak of silver hair formed a natural feature framing her face.

 

Merida nodded approvingly as her mother did the same. Upon noticing their shared synchronicity, the two burst into giggles.

  
The moment did not last however as a loud resounding crash was heard from downstairs. Boyish shrieks and the desperate admonishments of Maudie soon followed.

"Boys!" Elinor roared, turning to go and attend to the situation. She didn't bother stopping at the door, knowing full well that Merida would follow soon enough. The wee terrors had certainly not improved in their behaviour upon reaching the age of seven. The young redhead smirked. She was glad she wasn't the one needed to sort out Harris, Hubert and Hamish today.  
  
She took the opportunity to use this brief moment alone and survey her appearance.  Experimentally she twirled around to face the body length mirror on her cupboard. Merida enjoyed feeling the fabric slide freely around her thighs, her calves free to jig and dance. A net improvement on the dresses her mum would pick out for her when she was sixteen. Being an adult rocked if it meant she could pick herself more dresses like this. Her shoulders felt free and the bodice was tight enough not to slide without being suffocating. Experimentally she stretched. Okay, that was a little tight across the chest. No climbing mountains then. Relaxing her stance she looked into the mirror, slight surprise overcoming her features.  
  
She forgot at times that she was now a woman. Her mother had done well with her hair, the normally wild curls coming down in sophisticated looking waves. Some of her youthful chubbiness had faded away, letting her cheekbones accentuate her face, her sternum leading to sharp and muscled shoulders, the pale skin left bare. Pink powdered eyes glanced down. Her arms were stark long thin things atop the dark teal and raspberry tartan of her dress, a silver bangle drawing attention to a shapely wrist, a surprisingly well manicured hand. Even her breasts, which she normally forgot about in the sweaters she tended to favour as casual wear, were suddenly there, the cleavage pointing the eye down to the slim waist encircled by a thin black belt with an ornate silver buckle. Her hips, wide feminine curves, swayed gently with the material. Below the knee strong calves hinted at more white flesh through shimmery grey tights. Her feet in plain black flats were probably the only hint that she still felt fresh out of her teenage years, the shoes edging on the little girl side compared to the rest of the outfit.

 

"Damn."  
  
No wonder the guys at university always complained that she didn't dress up enough. And that thought was sufficient to make her roll her eyes and turn away from the looking glass. She didn't bother looking for more womanly footwear. She didn't want any of the guys at the supper getting any ideas.  
  
Besides, Burns Night was for Ceilidh dancing. Merida grinned. She hopped, performed a small pas de bas as she grabbed her jacket and purse and left her room.  
  
-

 

The weather outside was blustery and cold and wintry and damp. Snow had been threatening all week, but so far it had stuck to the hills, leaving the shoreline and city victim to just sleet like rain and the odd hail shower. Merida gripped her hands tighter around the wheel as the car came across a slippery patch of road. She tried not to let the sight of the sea on her left distract her. The crashing waves catching the dwindling light of the setting sun were beautiful and inviting. She had to remind herself that they'd also be freezing and harsh. She raised an eyebrow upon noticing a windsurfer tumbling in amongst the surf. It's nearly five pm and rapidly growing dark. Poor sod.  
  
"Scots, wha hae wi Wallace bled," Her father droned beside her, reading one of his favourite poems by the bard without even looking at his book. She was surprised he felt the need to even open it. Merida was pretty certain Fergus DunBroch knew all of Rabbie Burns works off by heart. Glancing at the rear-view mirror, Merida could see her mother rolling her eyes with a good-natured smile on her face. "Scots, wham Bruce has aften led...!"  
  
Conversation in the car had been sparse, her mother rereading her notes for a speech, making last minute adjustments where needed, and her father practicing his thickest broadest Scots, in preparation for his own. Merida's focus had been solely on driving, and swearing in Gaelic at the odd fool on the road who cut her off unexpectedly or stalled. Fergus would grin approvingly at her vocabulary. Elinor would frown, a simple "Merida!" showing her disapproval but little more. Her mother had now long accepted that Merida was her own woman and every bit as stubborn as her.  
  
"Ah, 'ere we are!" The redhead daughter smiled as she saw the old building they were headed to appear. Its distinctive roof poking out from behind the Ice Arena and Sports centre next to it. It wasn't long before they drove past the newer building with its glass roof structure to the older one alongside it. Boring modern architecture made way to art deco brick and windows, fancy pillars framing the various entrances and boards advertising various events. The Ballroom was an iconic feature of the city that, according to Fergus at least, wasn't praised enough.

 

Navigating carefully around the roundabout in front of it, Merida pulled in at the bay before the building. Her dad leapt out of the car and leaned back in to give them both a smooch. His prosthetic foot banged against the door frame, making the girl wince. That was his fancy wooden peg leg prosthetic. He hated getting it scratched.

"A'richt mah lovelies, ah will see ye at six thirty."

 

"See ya later da!"  
"Cheerio the nou."  
  
The door slammed shut. The young woman carefully began reversing. Leaving her father to go in and supervise the organising of tonight's event, she started driving towards their next stop. The two women had just under an hour to go pick up one of Merida's friends and meet up with two others, where they'd leave her car and get a taxi back out. It didn't escape Merida's notice that her mother had deliberately chosen to sit in the back; subtle Elinor, very subtle.  
  
"Time tae gang 'n' pick up Jim, aye?" Merida could feel her cheeks flush at her mother's remark.  
  
Just because her chum was a lad, her mother had to start playing matchmaker. She sighed.  


"Aye." She said, keeping her tongue in cheek.   


She loved her mother, and sometimes that meant putting up with her silly notion that Merida wanted a relationship. At least she had long stopped being pushy about it.  
  
-

 

Jim had brushed up surprisingly well for the event, from what Merida could see under the big leather jacket and hood he'd thrown on. Crisp white military style suit, gold hems and buttons, smart trousers and boots with red leather that echoed his collar. He'd gelled back his hair, tidying the usually straggly fringe, his ponytail sleek amongst the back of his shorn lower head.  
  
"Merida, Mrs DunBroch." He greeted them as he quickly climbed into the front passenger seat, his white smile flashing as his blue eyes met hers.  He seemed excited but a little nervous. She could understand. Although he was North American, his roots were very much English, his father's family hailing from Kent. To him Burns Night must sound like one of those crazy Scottish things that make little sense.   
  
"Jim," Merida's grin broadened at the thought that she had yet to introduce him to the highland games. Just you wait for summer, Jimmy.

 

"Mr Hawkins," Merida's mother greeted, nodding approvingly as he shut the door. Thankfully few drops of rain and sleet had made their way in.   
  
"Got a call from Doppler. He and Amelia have booked the taxi for us all. Thanks for the lift by the way."  
  
Merida shook her head.  
"Tis nae trouble at a'."  She caught herself and rephrased, remembering that in the same way she sometimes found Jim's drawl hard to grasp, he struggled with her broad Scots, though he was improving. "It's an awfa' night to be bussing it doon tae th' beach."  
  
"You don't say," he replied sarcastically as the windscreen wipers pushed away what looked suspiciously like a good attempt at snow.  
  
-

 

The drive back to the Ballroom was much livelier, Doctor Doppler and his young wife bringing excitable conversation into the cab they all embarked in, Merida's Subaru Outback securely parked in the car park under the couple's building. Elinor would ask after Amelia's three daughters, triplets like the boys, and the short haired woman would try to gush using as few words as possible but still managing somehow to wax poetically about snotty noses and games of peek-a-boo. Delbert tried not to preen too obviously, Merida and Jim helping him in this endeavour by engaging in talk of what had been happening at university. The news that Ralph had once more decided to change his degree seemed to do the trick, the young doctor starting a long disbelieving tirade about how Ralph would forever be a student at this rate.  
  
The five of them barely noticed it when the cab had arrived, the driver pulling up in a sudden torrent of wet stuff falling from the sky. The strong wind coming off the sea didn't help. Peering out the window, Merida could barely make out the big boats that were anchored out in the sea not far from the port.  
  
Elinor paid the fare as the others disembarked, Jim reaching out for Merida's arm as she pulled her cloak, a gift from her mother, tighter around her shoulders.

"Hey," the young man said, as they failed to dodge the drops between the car and the porch. "Who else is turning up that I might know?"  
  
Merida shook herself down as they got out of the weather into the warmth of the building.   
"Och weel, there's mah da o' coorse. 'N th'three musketeers, Dingwall, Macguffin and MacIntosh... Ah hear MacGuffin's got his pal fae Norway, Bjorgman, comin' alang tae. Ye met him at MacGuffin's birthday, didnae ye?"  
  
"Oh." Jim took a moment to process her reply, before his features relaxed. "Yeah, I think I remember him, quiet fellow with an iron clad stomach. That's not such a bad crowd."

  
The redhead chuckled at his nervousness as they made their way past the doorman. Jim's eyes were constantly taking in their surroundings; clearly he'd never been near the building before, let alone inside. It wasn't the fanciest place he'd been, she knew. After all, Scotland had actual castles by the score. It amused her. She'd been running through this atrium since she was six, rushing down to take part in a dance show downstairs.

  
A bagpiper stood at the top of the two stairs, and, after minimal sorting of his pipes, he started piping. Jim's eyebrows shot up. This piper was a much better player than the one that had been known to perform on the city's main street.   


The guests, because now she noticed that quite a few others had started to arrive alongside them, coats dripping and cheeks ruddy from the elements, were slowly ushered down the stairs to the cloakroom, powder room and bathrooms below. Faces recognised faces, hails were exchanged. Some she had seen just last week when she'd been to visit her father at the office, others hadn't been seen since this time last year. It wasn't long after she'd shucked her cloak that she began to feel dizzy and tired of smiling, nodding and exchanging niceties. She needed a drink.  
  
Seeing that the doors to the main ballroom were at long last open, she dragged Jim along with her, out of the carpeted stairwell to a big wide space, dominated by a large dance floor. The latter was surrounded by dozens of tables done up in white cloths with fancy napkins in glasses and the odd antler set atop tartan runners. The young man let out a small gasp but wasn't given much time to admire just how high the roof went. A photographer caught them, took a snap of them together in front of the bunting showing the Scottish bard's profile, before letting them through with a compliment and thanks. A table was set up near the stage, waiters offering the guests that were trickling in a free glass of fizz to start off the night.   
  
"Taa!" The red head intoned as she grabbed two glasses. Forcing one into Jim's hand, she raised him a brow in challenge. He lifted a brow back, and raised his glass.   


"Tae Rabbie Burns?" His accent was off, but it wasn't a bad attempt at Scots coming from him.  
"Tae Rabbie Burns." Merida replied, as they both took a sip.  
  
All they had to do was find the musketeers and their seats, and they'd be able to lose themselves in youthful chatter and ignore all the boring old adults around them in impunity. At least until the Haggis appeared.  
  
-  
  
Dingwall was first to appear, his father strutting confidently into the ballroom in brightly coloured trews, the tartan trousers doing little to hide his impressive potbelly. Wee Andy Dingwall waddled in behind him, his kilt a little big and loose as always. Merida shook her head. Wee Dingwall was going to be one of those people who perpetually looked twelve. It seemed that his mother had given up on helping him tame his impressive cowlick, and his eyes lit up upon seeing Merida and Jim as the perfect opportunity to get away from his younger sister and parents.  
  
MacIntosh arrived not long after, his latest date hanging off his arm in a dress way too short, the only concession to tartan colours the shawl over her shoulders that hid thin blue straps. Next to her Andrew MacIntosh looked opulently over dressed; his sporran was every bit as fanciful as his father's, his shirt clearly silk, his jacket fancy enough to even have some of his family tartan sewn on the lapels on the back. Merida merely rolled her eyes as he swaggered over, introducing the blond girl as Alice.   


Jim took a real shine to Alice.  
Merida couldn't say she was surprised.  
  
The ginger haired girl leaned back in her seat as she watched the boys and Alice chat nearby. Taking another sip of her drink (bitter stuff, but she liked how it fizzed) she glanced back towards the doors. People were still streaming in, the photographer busy trying to get the various groups of guests to pose together for a corporate picture. She was about to look away when something caught her eye... or rather someone.  
  
"Whoah..."   
  
A tall woman had just been singled out by the photographer, her white hair neatly tied in a plaited bun, but her outfit...  
  
"That's pretty cool."  
  
Dark blue skirts swirled around the woman's legs, flowery embroidery catching the eye. Long white sleeves emerged from under an equally beautiful shawl. She smiled politely as the photographer directed her to stand next to a well built man in a suit. It looked like she had some kind of purse hanging from her silver belt band, a bit like the sporrans her kilted friends wore. Merida smirked upon noticing that. Definitely handier than the clutch she had tossed upon the table. She was more startled to notice that she was then led towards their table by none other than...  
  
"Oh hey, Kristoff! MacGuffin!" MacIntosh hailed.   
  
Kristoff Bjorgman, the blond man in the suit, smiled sheepishly. Andrew MacGuffin, equally tall and broad shouldered, chuckled and said something in that quiet Doric voice of his that seemed to be a greeting. He then pointed at the drinks table indicating that he was away to get some cheap champagne, if there was any left. Merida stood and smiled, waving happily at Wendy who was on his arm.  
  
"So ye aff tae introduce us?" Dingwall waddled happily forward, expectation on his face but no actual introduction forthcoming. The stranger smiled politely, eyebrows turning in question towards Kristoff. He turned momentarily to her, muttering something foreign that Merida couldn't follow before clearing his throat.  
  
"Okay people, this is Elsa, my, urm..." A short hesitation as he seemed to be searching for the right word. Merida was used to this from the few occasions she'd met the young man. He was astoundingly good at understanding folk, and seemed to understand young Macguffin better than his own compatriots, but his English was often stilted and clumsy. Seeming to find a word to settle on, he finished his sentence. "My friend. From Norway. Yes."  
  
"Elsa, these people are Andrew MacGuffin's friends..." He started showing which one of them he meant with the palm of his hand.   
  
"Andrew Dingwall, is called Wee Dingwall or Wee Laddie." Elsa nodded and replied in crisp English, her foreign accent nowhere near as pronounced as Kristoff's, though still noticeable.

"It is nice to meet you." Wee Dingwall beamed.

 

"This is... Jim yes?" Jim nodded, though he barely glanced away from Alice.

 

"Andrew MacIntosh here gets called MacIntosh. He doesn't take well to the nicknames Apple or iMac, so I would not call him that." Merida chortled loudly, much to the mortified MacIntosh's dismay. "Hey!"  
"Mr MacIntosh." Elsa bowed in the young man's direction, her lips quirked in a crooked grin but otherwise the very picture of diplomacy.  
  
"Alice Kingsleigh, nice to meet you," the woman at MacIntosh's arm volunteered upon noticing Kristoff's hesitation. She made to shake Elsa's hand, but instead the platinum blond apologetically reached out for the glass MacGuffin had brought back for her.   
"The same," Elsa nodded, hiding an awkward hesitation behind a sip from her flute.  
  
Now similarly equipped with a glass of his own, Kristoff grinned broadly, waving dramatically towards Merida. The red head quirked her brow at him but smirked, crossing her arms as she waited to see why the Norwegian man had felt the need to give her introduction that extra flourish.  
"This is Merida DunBroch, the girl I told you about."  
  
That addition and the wink that accompanied the introduction piqued both Merida's interest and concern. Her Scots came out thick as she asked.  
"Kristoff, whit hae ye bin telling th'lassie?"  
  
"All good things, all good things..." Kristoff made appeasing gestures in her direction, grinning like a fool. Merida didn't feel reassured by this at all, and was furiously trying to recall what she had done that could have marked the man so at MacGuffin's party. The chuckles coming from her friends weren't really helping. There had been quite the flow of alcohol.   
  
"Ah yes, Merida. I met your father earlier this week." Elsa smiled warmly at her, her grip on the fizz relaxing as she stepped closer. "I'm told..."  
  
But Merida was not to hear what the Norwegian woman had been told. A voice came over the speakers above, and a man in a kilt could be seen by the stage, a microphone in his hand as waiters started tidying away the drinks table.

  
"Ladies and gentleman, can I please request you find your seats for Grace."

  
In the commotion following, Merida could but frown as she puzzled over what Elsa had been told about her, the comment apparently forgotten as the foreign woman engaged Wendy in conversation, something about architecture...  
  
-


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if anything is confusing and I'll edit in an explanation note if necessary.

-

The bagpipes played loud and true, a bonnie tune as piper, chef and speaker marched into the room. The guests were invited to stand, feet stamping along to the song. The cook held his platter high as the small procession reached the dance floor. Merida tried hard not to giggle as her father's wooden leg made its distinctive sound upon hitting the dance floor. As every year, she failed, grinning widely as she joined in the clapping that had started up. She was pretty certain her father noticed. Merida had a feeling that the year when she didn't chuckle at the peg leg's distinctive clatter would be the year Fergus DunBroch would set it aside and favour the boring prosthetic leg that would allow a shoe.   


Although she doubted he'd ever go for a boring shoe.  
  
The trio stopped in front of the small table the waiters had left before the stage. Delicately the chef placed the silver platter down. The haggis, a suet pudding of minced meat and oatmeal, had everyone's attention. Fergus DunBroch was solemn as he stood behind it, chef to one side and piper finishing his song at the other. The crowd quietened down, seriousness causing silence to reign supreme. With a gesture, their host let them sit.  
  
"A dram fur th' piper." The red-haired Scotsman's voice boomed as he lifted a silver cup. Turning, he offered it to the piper, who drank the sip of whisky within.  
  
"A dram fur th' chef." The chef did the same.  
  
"And a dram fur me!" Fergus winked and grinned at the crowd, enjoying his own sip of the fiery liquid.  
  
It didn't take him long to put the cup back down. Nor did it take long for him to lift up the ceremonial knife. The crowd held its breath waiting for him to begin. He obliged his fiery locks and neatly trimmed beard drawing everyone's gaze to his expressive eyebrows and wide smile. His voice boomed across the large room, needing little help from the microphone set up before him. His hands hovered above the meaty pudding in front of him. Its speckled skin seemed to gleam in the limelight. As Fergus DunBroch spoke, one could hear the tenderness with which he made his address.   
  
"Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,   
Great chieftain o the puddin'-race!  
Aboon them a' ye tak your place..."   
  
Merida's gaze drifted away from her father at that point, his hands raised to the roof. She'd heard his ode to the haggis many times now. As much as she enjoyed her father's fervour and energy, she had found herself more fascinated over the years with the way people watched him perform the ceremonial ode.

 

She smirked upon noticing Andy Dingwall's eyes glaze over, though the lad had the decency to mouth along with the rhyme. She wasn't surprised that he would lose himself in the words. Beside him Wendy watched with big eyes, flinching ever so slightly at every swipe of the knife Fergus used to accentuate his words. Oh, that's right; it was her first Burns Supper too. With a twinkle in her eye, the redhead turned to her friend Jim. She felt a warm glow in her heart at her friend's reception of the speech. For the first time since he'd laid eyes on MacIntosh's girl, the American lad's gaze had turned away, drinking in the performance with rapture. Every now and then his brow would crease; incomprehension washing over his features, but his smile lost none of its warmth. Merida approved.   
  
In sharp contrast to Jim, Alice looked bored, picking her nails as she whispered to MacIntosh. The redhead rolled her eyes. The black haired man next to Alice merely nodded and leaned back, passively enjoying the display. MacGuffin, much like Merida, had his gaze wondering the room, though he'd return to Fergus and sway along to the speech. The blond giant gave a gentle squeeze on Wendy's shoulder as their host stabbed the knife into the Haggis, splitting the sausage open. The English girl gripped his hand in thanks.  
  
Mostly satisfied with her friend's responses, Merida looked to the Scandinavian guests in their midst. She wondered how obscure they would find the Ode to the Haggis. She could see Kristoff concentrating, his focus fully on deciphering her father's words. She had a lot of respect for Kristoff. There were plenty Scottish people who gave up trying to decipher the meaning of painch, tripe or thairm, let alone non-native English speakers. She had to cover her giggle when the mention of French ragout and fricassee seemed to completely throw him.  
  
Her amusement, however, was cut short as Merida caught the expression on his friend Elsa's face. It could have been the dim lighting, or the angle at which the blonde woman was sat, but there was something wistful, melancholic, even a touch sad in the way she looked on at her father throw words at a defeated pudding.

 

" Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware  
That jaups in luggies:  
But, if ye wish her gratefu prayer..."  
  
The words caught the host's daughter off guard, signalling the end of the ode. She'd been so distracted trying to puzzle out Elsa's expression she'd missed two whole paragraphs.  
  
"Gie her a Haggis!" Fergus finished with gusto, his knife down on the table as he lifted up the dish.   
  
The room erupted into applause; Merida's father must have outdone himself. She turned her blue eyes back to him, clapping along but still distracted. It took her father giving her a startled look and big cheesy grin to bring her back to herself, her clapping regaining its energy and even a whoop.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen," the head of clan DunBroch bowed his head, switching to plain English for the non-Scots speakers in the crowd. As the piper and chef left, bearing away the dish, he lifted a glass of whisky. It was similar to the ones on all the tables, small ornate containers of amber liquid. With little prompting, those sat rose to their feet with their glasses. "Let us all raise a toast: to the Haggis!"  
  
A rumble crossed the hall as the toast was echoed, and Merida welcomed the sip of smoke and peat flavoured malt. As it seared across her tongue and down her throat, she became determined to have a one to one conversation with this Elsa at some point this evening. That's twice now that the Norwegian woman had her flummoxed. Merida was never one to back down from a challenge.  
  
Tonight was going to be fun.  
  
-  
  
It was obvious really, that the dinner conversation was going to turn to food. With two foreigners at the table for whom this was likely the first time eating Haggis, the jokes were unavoidable.  
  
"Ya ken the wee buggers only hae three legs, 'aight?" MacIntosh smirked as he waved a fork in Kristoff's direction, the Norwegian man paying rapt attention to his words. "One short 'un 'n' two langer ones?"  
  
Elsa seemed amused more than convinced, one eyebrow raised as she queried MacIntosh's assertion.  
"And why is that?"  
  
"Tis lik' this: ye see, a haggis bides in th' hills. Havin' their legs that wey mak's it easier fur them tae run aroond."

 

"To catch one ye just need to mak' it turn around so it falls doon." Alice chimed in, her comment and MacIntosh's chortle causing both Jim and Wendy to roll their eyes. They'd been through this before. Merida merely shook her head.  
  
"And there I thought," the blond woman replied, somehow straight-faced, "that it was simply offal meats and stuffing in a sheep's stomach."  
  
The look of dawning understanding swiftly shifting Kristoff's frown from his face soon got a laugh from the whole table. The resulting pout did even more so.  
"And I thought I was getting educated." The blond man sighed, a resigned smile on his face as he returned to his meal.  
  
MacGuffin rattled off a few words rapidly, the meaning of which was conveyed more by his mannerism than his actual syllables. As far as Merida could tell it was "Dinnae mind MacIntosh, he's just bein' an arse."  
  
"Sae how're ye guys finding Haggis?" Merida asked, pouring a touch more of the whisky sauce from the boat provided onto hers.

 

"Very good, thank you!" Kristoff mouthed around his fork.   
"It is quite... salty," Elsa said. Her plate wasn't half as empty as her friend's. "But very nice, thanks."  
  
"What I want to know," Jim pointed across the table as he put down his drink, "is what goes into a vegetarian Haggis."  
  
"What?" Wendy looked up confused from her plate that Jim had been pointing at. "It's the same as a vegetarian sausage, Jim: nuts, beans and veg', that sort of stuff."  
  
"Itsh pretty tasty too." She added with another mouthful. She turned back to Kristoff and Elsa. "Have you tried any of the other local specialties?"  
  
"Oh yeah!" MacIntosh interjected, his mop of a fringe flew back as he leaned forward. "That's a guid question. Ah keep trying tae get Lucy 'ere tae have a go some Scots Tablet, bit she keeps refusing."  
  
Alice, taking exception to being called Lucy by her escort, elbowed him in the ribs. He merely yelped with a smirk. "I ken what goes in that stuff! If I wanted to get fat, you bet lumps o' butter 'n' sugar are what I'd go for."  
  
"My... father once brought us back some Edinburgh Rock, I think?" Elsa replied with her brow scrunched up ever so slightly in recollection. "As sweets go, it was decent."  
  
"I haven't tried... Tablet?" Kristoff said, waving his hand around as he tested the word. "But I hear things about... Do you people really eat deep-fried Mars bars?"  
  
Merida chortled.   
  
"Oh aye, ye tried that once, didnae ye, MacGuffin?" Wee Dingwall had just finished getting an order for the table in from one of the waiters. "Whit lik' was it?"  
  
"A hert attack wi' ilka bite." The large Doric man said with a big grin on his face. "Twas in Stonehaven, aye?"  
  
"Ye were the only one nae chicken." MacIntosh reminisced.  
  
"Me 'n' Merida."  
  
"Aye, but ah coudnae even finish mah first bite afore gasping fur some water tae wash oot mah geggy." The redhead demonstrated by washing down the last of her haggis with some of the ice water in her spare glass.  
  
"Dae ye Norwegians hae any streenge national dishes lik' that? Ah ken France haes stranger things than ragout 'n' fricassee." The wee lad's cowlick resisted his attempt at brushing it down. He seemed oblivious to the expressions of slight horror on Kristoff and Elsa's faces.  
  
"Andy, do you even know what ragout is?" Jim rolled his eyes at Dingwall. Merida recalled that Jim had worked many years in his mother's hotel, helping out in the kitchens. Of course he'd know what ragout was.  
  
"Well..." Kristoff started slowly, a sly grin on his face as he exchanged a look with Elsa. "There is Lutefisk."  
  
"I am quite partial to it, yes," the white-haired woman smiled. "Don't know how you can dislike it."  
  
"Whit's Lutefisk?" Merida asked. She'd never heard of it before.  
  
"I know what it is." Jim covered his mouth in a poor attempt to hide a laugh. Merida frowned.  
  
"Rotting fish." Kristoff said with a perfect deadpan. He ignored Elsa batting his shoulder to add. "Tastes like... soap."  
  
"Whit, really?" "Ew."  
  
"Kristoff." The aggravation in Elsa's voice was amusing to hear. It was the first time that evening Merida had heard the stranger speak in a tone that belied anything other than polite respect. "It is just dried fish soaked in lye... but I would agree that Lingon berries are a much tastier dish to represent Norway."  


The waiter reappeared with their drinks order, interrupting the flow of conversation. Once the tray of beverages had been paid for from their communal kitty, MacIntosh stood up.  
  
"Looks lik' it'll be a short while afore they serve the sweet. Fancy going fur a fag?" He gestured to Alice with his packet of cigarettes. She nodded. Jim, unsurprisingly, made to stand as well.  
  
"I'll come with you guys." Darn it, Merida had forgotten that Jim was a social smoker. She wasn't looking forward to him smelling of tobacco next to her as they enjoyed their Cranachan. She just hoped the sweet whisky cream's flavours would be strong enough to overcome the unpleasant aroma until it faded. She watched, a bit put out, as he left, JD and coke in hand, with MacIntosh and his girl.  
  
Next MacGuffin and Wendy stood, the tall blond muttering quickly something about seeing some old family friends the pair wanted to catch up with. Merida spared a glance towards the top table. Her parents seemed to be happily catching up with the families of the three musketeers. Dingwall senior looked particularly engrossed in whatever epic he was on about. She smiled.  
  
"Och hey, reindeer laddie!" Dingwall junior hailed Kristoff from his end of the table. "Come 'ere 'n' tell me how auld these antlers are."  
  
Kristoff obliged. Merida wasn't surprised. The blond Norwegian was known by the group as an expert and enthusiast in all things reindeer, Kristoff Bjorgman having famously made MacGuffin's acquaintance at a wildlife exhibit he'd been asked to advise on. The exhibitors had even paid him his flight.  
  
Belated, Merida realised this meant she and Elsa were sat just themselves at their end of the table.  
Now was her chance.  
  
"Sae..."  
  
"Hm?" The way the Norwegian woman seemed to relax caught Merida of guard. There was something warm and unidentifiable in her smile that gave Merida pause.   
  
"Eh." The DunBroch lassie shook her head. Where had her words gone? Come on, she had them a second ago. With a burst of courage she seemed to find them, the syllables spilling out faster than she'd like. "Whit waes it Kristoff told ye aboot me?"  
  
"I'm sorry, I don't understand." Elsa's eyebrows were quirked in both amusement and confusion.   
  
Merida sighed. "Whit..." Wait, breathe Merida. Remember your mother's lessons on elocution. How was it the folk on the BBC talk? No, not the ones like wee Morag on BBC Scotland... Think of the posh ones on the news. "Wh-at. Has Kristoff. Told you. About me?"  
  
Okay, maybe the exaggerated hand gestures weren't required. The fact that the redhead could feel her cheeks burst aflame wasn't exactly reassuring, but at least with the question out she could feel her nervousness evaporating. Darn she hated speaking plain English.

  
"Oh, that." Elsa glanced away shyly, smiling as she looked in Kristoff's direction. Merida watched as the blonde shook her head. "It is nothing really. He says you make him think of his girlfriend, something about... being similar?"  
  
"Ah dae?" Merida's surprise wasn't feigned. Though she knew Kristoff had a girlfriend from previous meetings... that was about the sum of her knowledge.

 

"You do." A pause, as Elsa's gaze returned.  Merida was startled to notice how pale blue her eyes were. She hadn't realized that a blue that light existed in irises. Compared to the redhead's own cerulean orbs, Elsa's were like ice. The Norwegian's voice continued on, tone thoughtful. "I don't see the... resemblance myself..."  
  
"... right... one thing." The foreigner added with her accent coming stronger.  
  
"Whit's that then?" The words were out before she could even consider them. Merida decided then and there that it was no longer worth worrying about what she said in front of Elsa. Clearly the woman had a way of setting her mouth onto autopilot. Instead it was the anticipation of the woman's reply that set her stomach in knots.

 

The platinum blonde seemed caught off-guard. The latter part of her comment had been muttered and Merida had only caught a couple of words. Clearly Elsa hadn't expected her to pick up their meaning.  
  
"You..." Merida watched, mesmerized, as Elsa's cheeks gained a rosy hue and worked her mouth wordlessly a while. Merida had somehow rendered speechless the woman who'd brazenly walked into a Burns Night event wearing a Scandinavian Bunad. "You're... You both have red hair."  
  
"That's it?" The red-head felt slightly deflated. The way Elsa's eyes shifted away, she wasn't entirely certain if she was satisfied with that answer.   
  
But it was clear, that the other woman did not wish to talk of it further. Elsa was now drinking from her glass and staring resolutely at the antlers on the table that Dingwall was now pointing out to Kristoff.   
  
Red hair, huh? Merida chuckled.  
  
"Sae Kristoff's burd haes red locks? Hah! Ah should've guessed."   
  
Seeing Merida laugh, Elsa seemed to relax once more, a quirky grin gracing her face.  


"Ye ken, when Kristoff was introducing ye, ah thought ye two wur dating." Merida said, sipping from her own beverage. She was watching the reindeer man too now, enjoying his enthusiasm as he explained the detail of the various branches to the wee lad beside him. His earlier hesitation upon what to introduce Elsa to the group as had been conspicuous.

 

"What? No." The woman leaned out of the way as one of the food servers returned to remove their plates. "No! That would be awkward."  


There was something in Elsa's voice that gripped Merida and caused her to look at the white-haired woman anew. The befuddlement in her face was clear, as was the absence of that upraising glance she'd so often see on girls' faces at school when teased about such and such a fellow.  
  
It struck a chord in Merida's soul in the same way a good piper's tune could. She thought back to her mother in the car earlier that day, the way Elinor liked to insinuate Merida ought to like a boy as more than just a chum.  Merida had put up with it for years, had at one point even gone out of her way to get her mother to back off. Elinor had since gotten a lot better about it, and Merida had learned to just grunt and bite back the feeling of weirdness the mere thought caused when it did arise.

  
Her mind was only half on the conversation as Elsa began to ask her about her friends. She readily volunteered anecdotes about Dingwall and MacIntosh. She enjoyed getting Elsa's impressions of MacGuffin in return, but as they talked, she kept thinking back to Elsa's reaction. Something churned in her heart, something half hopeful; half... was there even a term for it?  
  
Maybe, just maybe, this here was a person just like her: a person who wasn't looking to be a part of some big romance.  
  
-


	3. Chapter 3

-  


"Ladies and gentlemen... If I might have your attention please."    
  
Merida would forever be envious of how easily her mother could switch from her usual Scots accent to blander neutral English. Even more so of her ability to project her voice and instantly gather everyone's attention. The microphone in her hand was clearly decorative: a visual aid and little more.   


Elinor stood all regal elegance and patience, as a hush descended upon the room. She waited just that little moment longer to ensure all eyes were on her before continuing.

  
"Thank you, every one of you, for making it toMordu Oil's annual Burns Supper. We atMordu take great pride in our Scottish roots and heritage, as you no doubt noticed with my husband's hearty rendition of the Ode to the Haggis. Our head Fergus loves to share his appreciation for guid ol' Rabbie Burns and Scottish food, and I hope that all of you, by the end of tonight will leave satisfied and merry."

 

At this, Elinor swept her arms around her in a bow, extending her welcome with her actions as well as her words. Merida smiled. Her mother's eyes seemed to twinkle as she stood back up, hands clasping over one another as she grinned at her.   
  
"It is customary, on the night where we celebrate our national bard, for some speeches to be made."  
  
Merida heard a small groan from her left. She had to muffle a chuckle at Jim's anxious face. She'd forgotten how much he disliked long speeches. She recalled fondly his dead-eyed gurn from one of their more tedious lectures at university. Her hilarity from it had certainly helped keep her awake through the drone of boring words back then. She had much faith, however, that Jim's current dread was misplaced. Her parents were good at choosing speakers, and the speeches were never boring.  
  
"Ah wonder who's bin picked fur th' foremaist speech this year..." Wee Dingwall whispered, as if reading Merida's thoughts.  
  
"Tis nae one o' yer folks?" The startled mutter came from MacIntosh. The two were quickly hushed by MacGuffin.  
  
The exchange however, had surprised Merida. As her mother went on with the usual pleasantries expected of the welcoming speech, she puzzled over the notion. It wouldn't be one of the Dingwalls delivering the first of the guest speeches? Mordu Oil's Burns suppers usually had three of them. Though the latter two guest speeches had been delivered by a wide variety of people over the years, it was, in Merida's memory at least, highly unusual for the first of them not to be delivered by one of Wee Andy's parents. After all, it was hard to find such avid fans of Robert Burns' life, works and personal accomplishments. It was pretty much tradition to let them geek out at this time of year.  
  
Who on earth could it be?  
  
"It may come as a surprise to some of you..." Elinor continued on with her speech. Her words seemed to recapture the focus of those who'd drifted off, bringing new interest to the ones who'd sat through too many of these events. "But it is for the first of our speeches that I have asked one of our aforementioned foreign guests to take the stand."  
  
Elinor's smile seemed directed at Merida's table. Merida felt her eyebrows shooting up into her hairline. She turned her eyes to Kristoff, the immediate foreigner to come to mind. There was no way it'd be the American Jim or Wendy from England. She knew them well enough to know they had little interest in Scots biographies. Could it be that the reindeer loving Scandinavian was secretly a fan?  
  
The blond man was grinning, but he had none of the nervousness she'd expect of the speaker due to stand and be announced shortly... though he did look suspiciously eager. His brown eyes had shifted away from the event's hostess to the woman sat between him and the redhead. Merida had to resist the urge to blurt out something stupid.  
  
Elsa merely nodded, smiling back up towards Elinor as she reached for something below the table. From her seat, Merida could see the white-haired woman pull some notes from her bunad's handy purse.   
  
"Everyone, in immortal memory of the bard Robert Burns, I shall ask Elsa Gyllenblom, the new director of Arendelle Solutions to come before you and share a few words."  
  
All eyes turned to where Elinor had extended her arm to, the mature woman in blue smiling encouragement to the younger one sat beside her daughter. Elsa Gyllenblom kept a neutral face, not a single tremor noticeable or an ounce of hesitation apparent as she stood. She glided off her seat, gracefully adjusting her embroidered shawl. She gave Elinor a genial smile as she made her way to the stand, her head and shoulders straight, her steps confident...   
  
Merida felt a lump forming in her throat. She'd had the notion that Elsa wasn't much older than her, being Kristoff's friend and all. Now that she'd heard the girl's surname, she knew this to be fact. Memories of conversations overheard, of her parents talking about this and that to one another... "The Gyllenblom girl" was all that the redhead had known her as... She was the daughter of some family friends who'd taken over the running of their company at the tender age of twenty-one just last year. This was the one whose mention had her mother taking on a wistful look as she caught her daughter stealing an apple or hiding some pie. This was the one who got brought up whenever school grades were mentioned and futures discussed.  
  
Watching Elsa reach for the microphone, the perfect image of the poised professional, Merida knew that she could never compare. Elsa was everything her mother was, seemed to be everything her mother had tried to teach her to be.   
  
The leaden feeling in her stomach must have shown on her face, because Jim was suddenly leaning towards her. She had a brief moment to give thanks for the creation of the electronic cigarette that Jim had recently acquired and shown off at his return from the snowy smoke break with Alice and MacIntosh. His breath was noticeably not that bad smelling.  
  
"Hey, you alright?" His whisper showed every bit of concern she had come to expect from her classmate come best friend when it really mattered.  
  
"A'm fine." She mumbled, patting his hand away.   
  
She turned her attentions back to Elsa. Her mother had now sat down and the white-haired young woman was clearing her throat.  
  
Merida made an effort to ignore her increasingly dour mood. It wasn't fair to the young lassie.  
  
"Thank you Mrs DunBroch." The microphone was perfectly vertical in the maiden's grasp. Her icy gaze swept around the crowd lazily before resting on Kristoff. He gave her the thumbs up. Her smile became a touch warmer. The hand holding her cards waved down towards her own outfit. "I apologise, I do seem to stand out, but I wouldn't have been comfortable wearing tartan to an event such as this. Especially not after being asked to speak about Robert Burns and his life."  
  
She paused, giving the audience a moment to observe her outfit, or those who hadn't noticed it already at least. A few appreciative murmurs could be heard rumbling through the crowd, along with the odd chuckle.   
  
"As many of you know, Robert, known as Rabbie, was born in 1759, in the western Scotland region of Ayrshire. The seventh son of a farming couple, he worked the land and was home taught. He wrote his first poem aged just fifteen. His life wasn't easy. Labouring the land was hard work and it is not for nothing that he is sometimes called the Ploughman Poet. It wasn't until he was twenty-three that he met Captain Richard Brown, with whom he formed a friendship that would encourage him to live life as a bard."  
  
There seemed to be a faint tremor in Elsa's voice at this point, as she looked upon her fellow Scandinavian friend. Merida suddenly wondered about the basis of their friendship and how it had come about.   
  
"Think about it. He was a farming lad in the eighteenth century trying to make it as a poet, writer, and lyricist. This was an uphill struggle, with finances being a major issue for many years. That he was so prolific in spite of all this is a testament to his friend's faith in him, his love for his art, and, inevitably..." Elsa smiled a genuine crooked grin at this point, causing Merida's heart to falter. Was this a crack in the mask of perfection she saw? "... his constant infatuation for the ladies who would be the recipients of many of his songs, as well as the cause of many more of his troubles."  
  
"It was from such troubles that he first considered working abroad. Becoming a father thrice in the space of the year, with two different women, he had to accept a friend's offer to work in Jamaica. This did not stop him from courting a third woman in preparation for the voyage. Robert Burns had a consummate heart."  
  
As Merida had anticipated, Jim was finding himself entranced by the tale rather than bored. Her parents' novel choice of Elsa as spokesperson for the bard's life was paying off. Even the likes of MacIntosh, who normally liked to sit back and preen during these speeches was paying rapt attention, while the critical Dingwall and MacGuffin nodded in approval. It helped that Elsa was using a very different approach to the one the Dingwalls normally used, focussing on the hardships rather than the romances, the friendships rather than his loves.  
  
"While trying to accumulate funds for his immigration, he set about getting some of his poems published while sleeping on couches in various friends' houses. The Kilmarnock volume, his first published collection of works, was an unexpected and immediate success." Merida paused in the sipping of her beverage. There seemed to be a hint of wistfulness in Elsa's voice, a lowering of tone that betrayed a certain melancholy... Maybe she was just imagining things. "He abandoned the trip abroad for a life in the city of Edinburgh. Over the next two years he built many connections, made himself a name and began contributing to a collection of songs in old Scots with James Johnson. After a few more romances in the city, he returned to the woman who was once his wife and would end up being the mother to nine of his twelve children, Jean Armour."  
  
"Robert Burns's love for Scotland and a simple life was such that he refused a position in London and another in Edinburgh. This did not stop him from being involved in politics, expressing deep sympathy with the French Revolution and advocates for reform. He disapproved of slavery, inequality of many sorts and was deeply patriotic. It is no wonder that his works went on to inspire not just his fellow Scots, but also others around the world." Despite her initially soured mood, Merida could not help but smile upon hearing the conviction in the Scandinavian woman's voice. She truly was a good speaker, putting emphasis where it needed to be, pausing just long enough for meanings to catch up to words where breaks were necessary. "His direct, spontaneous and sincere style reached hearts as far away as Canada and Russia and has influenced many since. People all around the world commemorate today his free-spirit and this is well deserved."  
  
"I am from Norway." She said simply. "I wear today the traditional dress of my country, the Bunad, our equivalent to your kilts and tartans if you will, to honour a man who valued his homeland and its traditions. I speak to you because I value his message: that one should be free to be who they want to be, no matter their birth, or circumstance. And love freely, in any way one chooses to."  
  
She raised her hand, a small glass from the stand now nestled amongst the cards.  
"A toast: in immortal memory of Rabbie Burns."  


A cacophony of chairs and feet replied, as the people stood and raised their glasses too.  
"Rabbie Burns." The echo came, rumbling, loud, respectful and heart-felt.   
  
Merida raised her glass high, Elsa's words resonating inside her, giving her a new insight into the words of the bard. She felt as though the platinum blonde's words deserved another toast to freedom. It was something the redhead was more than willing to drink to.  
  
There was loud applause as the young Gyllenblom curtsied and left the microphone in Fergus DunBroch's hands.   
  
"Weel dane! Ah mean, well done! Thank ye, Elsa lassie, fur such a bonnie speech. " Merida's father seemed to be wiping a tear from his eye as he turned to face the room, raising his hand to encourage the continuing applause. "Lads, ye'r gang tae aff' tae wirk hard tae raise the bar efter that yin."

 

Clearly DunBroch senior had already gotten well stuck into the whisky, his Scots so pronounced that it was becoming hard to follow for the likes of Jim and Wendy. Merida nodded approvingly at Elsa as the white-haired woman came back to sit beside her. She smiled warmly back to the redhead, just as she had when they'd first been introduced.   
  
It was then that Merida remembered Elsa mentioning a meeting with her father earlier on in the week. With the added realisation that Elsa was in fact the director of Arendelle Solutions, Merida suddenly realised where that meeting would have taken place, and exactly what the Norwegian woman had been told about her.  
  
"Och gods, na. Please na." She quietly prayed, suddenly mortified by visions of her father's informal meeting room. "Da, a'm aff tae murdurr ye."  
  
Next to her, Jim and Elsa seemed completely oblivious to her distress as they watched a young man from across the room nervously make his way over to where Fergus was standing in the centre of the dance floor. The DunBroch daughter found it hard to focus on the Toast to the Lassies and the one to the Laddies that followed, despite them being the usual highlight of the evening for her.   
  
-  


"A pint o' cider, please."

 

"Sure thing! Comin' richt up." The barman replied with a glass in his hand as he went to the relevant tap. He dodged past the bustle of his colleagues, fellow bar staff attending to the large crowd that was accumulating at the outlets. Merida watched as the pale liquid poured forth, a half-hearted smile on her face as she listened to one of the barmaids exchanging banter with a punter next to her. Above the chatter of the crowd, the speakers in the ballroom had started playing some recordings of Burns' more famous songs. The speeches were finished, the ceilidh band was getting set up, and the young redhead had found herself very much in need of a drink.  
  
"Taa." She said as the man put the drink in front of her. She went to give him exact change, though after a moment's thought added a small tip. He had been very prompt after all.  
  
Taking her beverage with her, she wandered over to an awning not far from the bar. She wasn't ready to go back to her seat just yet. She worried at her lip, tasting the fermented apple juice there.   
  
"Whit's th' maiter wi' me th' nicht?" She muttered. She glanced at the crowd, spotting the tall MacIntosh and MacGuffin in the queue. She should be chatting merrily alongside them, not moping in the corner. She looked back towards their table, shortly, before averting her eyes again. The two Norwegians were still there, presumably talking in their own tongue about the speeches while the others were away.  She sighed. "Honestly..."  
  
She hated feeling wound up like this without acting upon it. If ever she found something frustrating, her normal response was to confront it with her complaints and be done with it or look for some outlet that involved a lot of energy. Sure, the dancing would be starting up shortly, and boy did she feel ready to show them all how it was done but... If she couldn't figure out why she was feeling so out of sorts in the first place, even Scottish highland dancing wouldn't do the trick.  
  
The young DunBroch girl set her eyes upon one of the many portraits of Robert Burns hanging around them, surrounding curtains lit up in a dramatic display. It was a fairly plain ink drawing, simple shading but not without life. She was starting to find his wee quirk of a smile quite darn cheeky.  
  
"Heh." The last time she'd felt such unjustified resentment for an inanimate picture was when she was sixteen. Damn, whatever it was bugging her had truly gotten under her skin if it was making her think back to that night.   
  
It wasn't as though she was completely clueless as to what was irking her. The Scottish redhead felt embarrassed, tricked... worthless.  All that because of a foreigner she had only met that evening: it just didn't make sense. It wasn't fair to Elsa. The Gyllenblom girl hadn't meant to make Merida feel that way. Merida liked the blonde: there was something fearless about her, a composure that rang true, something Merida felt was all too rare in this world. The redhead hated nothing more than the pretence of composure. Why hide one's fears? Why hold back if you clearly want to say something?  
  
That'd be why Merida was feeling so out of sorts. There she was trying to maintain a façade as she worked out exactly how to come to terms with her inner turmoil. It was a façade the likes of which had led to a falling out between Elinor and her daughter. She hated it.  
  
"Hey..." The frown on Merida's face soon vanished as she looked up to Wendy. The English girl had an earnest smile as she came to lean against the pillar beside her. "You seem quite distracted tonight. Normally you're always busy talking it up with the lads."  
  
"Maybe a've caught a cold?" She shrugged, eyeing some of the smokers returning from the snowy outdoors. It was amazing how much white stuff could get stuck on some of the party-goers heads.  
  
"We both know that's not true." Wendy smiled, but she was looking fixedly at a point by their table. "She seems to have made quite an impression on you. That's quite something."  
  
"Wha? Who?" She tried to hide the squeak in her voice with a sip of her cider. Why did Wendy have to choose tonight to be so perceptive? The girl was normally too busy mothering the boys to pay Merida much heed.  
  
"Elsa." Wendy in turn took a sip from her wine before looking at Merida. There seemed to be a twinkle of mirth in her eyes. Merida's cheeks were feeling the heat. "It's rare to find anyone who captures your respect so quickly. I'm sure Kristoff's quite chuffed."  
  
"Wendy..." The growl with which the name came out was pretty threatening as growls go. Merida should know, being the elder sister to three wee devils. "Quit playing aroond, whit's that suppose tae mean?"

  
"Merida." Great, Wendy had her teaching assistant voice on. The redhead resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her friend. The brunette placed a beseeching hand against the bare skin of her arm. "What I'm saying is that I've only known you a couple of years now, but if there's one thing I know about you, it's that you are not easy to impress."   
  
Ginger eyebrows scrunched together in confusion as Merida tried to process this. Drinks waiters snuck past them, trays either full of drinks or empties as the two girls looked into each other's eyes. Seeing that the redhead continued to be puzzled, Wendy sighed.  


"Miss DunBroch, renowned archery champion, crusher of hearts and scourge of bullies nationwide, can you honestly tell me that you don't hold yourself to a high standard? You always work hard to reach your goals. You set the bar high in whatever task you set your mind to and you hold others to that same standard. We notice when someone surprises you by somehow meeting it."

  
"Ah... No, ah'm..." It took Merida a long moment to find her words, loose bangs finding their way into her eyes. " How dae ye explain mah grades then? "  
  
"Everything you set your mind to, Merida..." Dark blue met sky blue eyes.  She did have a point. Merida had made no secret that she'd only chosen to do her course in Social Studies and Management to keep her mother happy. She'd pretty much succeeded on that point, good marks or no.  
  
With a sigh she relented. "A'richt." A pause as she relaxed. A smile grew on her face as Wendy helped her put her conundrum in words. "A'm impressed."  
  
And now that the word was out, suddenly it all began to make sense in her head. Her feelings of inadequateness vanished and the more manageable respect she'd felt before finding out Elsa's surname was back. There was still the nagging embarrassment of what her father would most certainly have told the Norwegian woman about her, but it was now a benign, what-can-ye-do resigned feeling that could be put aside. Warmth and relief filled the redhead with nothing but gratitude for her friend's reinforcing words.  
  
"Feeling better now?" Wendy's shoulders relaxed. "Good. Now you can stop your moping and come reassure Jim and the rest. They thought you were still stewing over that joke the lad made talking about the lassies."  
  
"Whit, that joke? But t'was hilarious!" There was a chipper note back in Merida's voice, and Wendy clearly grinned upon hearing it.  
  
"Of course you would find it funny," the English girl's head shook in mock shame. "You tomboy."  
  
" Aye, aye. Let's see who's th' fairest oan th' dancefloor th' nicht then, missy." The challenge was clear. If Merida were being perfectly honest with herself, she was starting to feel the heady mix of Whisky and Cider chipping away at her already weak restraint. Any competition had better watch out.  
  
"I look forward to it." Wendy laughed. The brunette knew full well that she would have trouble keeping up at the best of times. And it sounded like the band was pretty much ready to start the first set too.  
  
Hearing the sounds of fiddle and accordion amplify as the Burns' recordings faded away, Wendy's escort MacGuffin showed up to take her by the hand once they put their drinks down on the table. Merida quickly downed her pint. She put the empty glass down along with her clutch, a sharp thud sounding at her quick gesture. With great energy, the redhead waved to her friend and unfortunate victim for the first dance that night.  
  
"Oy, Jimmie lad!" The young American looked startled as she bounded towards him. Fear, a rare emotion for him, gleamed in his eyes as her intentions became apparent. "Arr ye ready fur some proper dancin'?"  
  
What little was left of the taming Elinor had imposed upon her daughter's hair was now gone, fiery locks flying wild and free. In her enthusiasm for dancing, she did not notice the confused look sent her way, by someone resolutely glued to their seat.  
  
Icy blue eyes looked on with concern as the caller talked into their microphone.  


-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to hear some nice Burns' songs, I recommend looking up Eddi Reader's renditions on youtube. Her singing voice helped quite a large portion of this chapter to get done!


	4. Chapter 4

-

  
The ground seemed to bounce beneath them as the dance floor filled up. Men in kilts and suits lined up alongside women in dresses long and short, taking their positions as per the caller's instructions. Feet thumped up and down, bodies twirled and skirts flew in time to the beat set by the music. The loud chatter from prior in the evening had now turned to a rumble, voices merry and mellow as people no longer sought to garner the attentions of more than their immediate neighbour. Small groups would move around the room, drinks in hand as they sought out friends with whom to chat. Most folk though, if not dancing to the band's tunes, were watching the dancers. Many appeared to be quite experienced. The instructions given by the singer on the stage were sparse, as they swayed with the microphone, the fiddler fiddling and drummer drumming.   
  
The corporate event had dissolved away leaving a party the likes of which Elsa had never attended before... Not that she had been at many parties, but she remembered a time where her parents would host them. She had faint recollections of the music that played back then, and of sneaking down the top few steps of the staircase so that she could catch a glimpse of the buzz below. The dazzling outfits were about the only aspect she could find in common, and even then, none of those garments of memory had had as many colours woven into one another, or material flying so freely, defying gravity with every stamp and leap.   
  
The Norwegian dances she had witnessed in childhood had been so sober in comparison. The young woman watched in wonder as the Scottish dancers twirled and hopped and swung around one another like water. She found it hard to keep track of individual people, let alone the moves. She caught sight of the American boy, Jim was it? The poor young man was looking slightly green and dizzy from the energetic twirling he had been subjected to. Elsa smiled as she recalled childhood games from her youth when her sister had taken on a similar hue. The two had attempted to recreate the dances from her parents' parties, at a much more rapid pace than the adults had... These Scottish folk were certainly energetic.   
  
"Anna would absolutely love this..." The Norwegian words carried a warm longing as her neighbour murmured them into her ear.  
  
"She would indeed." She nodded before turning her eyes to Kristoff, his own brown orbs not leaving the dance floor. Elsa noticed that his feet were tapping along to the rhythm of the song. She leaned over to clasp him on the shoulder. "Anna would also never let you hear the end of it if you didn't give it a go. Why don't you go rescue Jim and have fun?"  
  
For all his bulk and sass, Kristoff was every bit as childlike as her sister when he turned to her, his eyes wide and slightly slack jawed. With a smirk, she leaned closer, making sure his brown eyes were fully focused on hers... before flicking his nose.  
  
"Ouch! Alright... Alright!" He grinned while rubbing the afflicted nose. "I'm going. Sheesh."  
  
She chuckled, Kristoff was certainly easy to get along with and a delight to tease. Anna had been very fortunate in acquiring his affections. He was a net improvement compared to that other fellow. Elsa shuddered at the recollection.  
  
As Kristoff made his way to the dance floor, the band finished the current song. Various dancers made for their tables, either for a drink of water or a longer respite. Jim collapsed into his seat, a sigh of relief making itself heard as the callers started helping those now on the dance floor to set up for the next dance... something called the Dashing White Sergeant, apparently.  
  
"Darn, I was not ready for that..." Jim said with a wide grin. "Merida is on fire in these dances."  
  
Elsa looked up, managing to spot the young Scottish woman before the dance started. She looked fierce and determined. It was a strong departure from the slightly morose and withdrawn face Fergus's daughter had had after Elsa's speech. It was certainly more intense than the relaxed cheerfulness the redhead had shown upon meeting them and throughout the meal. Elsa clasped her hands together as she tried to make sense of it, managing, this time, to keep track of Merida's whereabouts around the floor.   
  
The redhead shined as she grabbed her dancing partner's hands and elbows. Her smile was infectious as a befuddled Kristoff tried to keep up with the confusing instructions and the young DunBroch's energy. Elsa's friend was nearly sent flying as Merida twirled around him, laughing as he stumbled when she let go to grasp the next dancer's arm. There was no apology or remorse as she turned to face him, their set resuming their starting positions before lifting their arms into arches for the others to pass through. In fact, Elsa was certain she could read a hint of challenge in Merida's face. Kristoff was certainly smirking in that bull-headed manner that the young Gyllenblom woman had become more than accustomed to.   
  
Elsa was so lost in their dance that she jumped upon feeling a small touch on her arm and a guttural patter reach her ears. Her skin crawled as she fought the shiver the interruption sent through her. It took a moment for her thoughts to adjust, the flow of her native Norwegian clashing with the words being spoken to her.   
  
"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Although she felt some heat flaring across her cheeks, she was very relieved to find that her pronunciation remained on point.   
  
The couple that had come to accost her chuckled. The man, a portly fellow with a greying moustache and white hair bobbed his head down to her level. If the redness in his nose and cheeks hadn't been a hint that he'd been enjoying the whisky a bit much, the smell on his breath certainly confirmed it.  
"Ah said, weel done oan that pure dead brilliant speech o' yers! Ah absolutely loved it. Sic conviction and heart..." His wide hands traced shapes in the air as he wobbled slightly.   
Seeing her confusion, the man's female companion took the merciful action of pulling him back a step before explaining in plainer, if still heavily accented, terms.  
"As Rabbie Burns enthusiasts ourselves, we commend ye on a lovely job. That speech o' yers brings back fond memories o' whin my husband 'ere was first asked tae speak of th' bard. "  
  
It was only upon noticing the woman's light blue eyes and thin nose that she realised who the couple reminded her of. So these were Wee Dingwall's parents.   
"Thank you." Elsa replied, still uncertain how to proceed. The pair clearly seemed keen to continue with a conversation, eyeing her expectantly with broad grins. "I..."  
  
She had known when Fergus DunBroch asked her to do the speech that people were likely to want to talk to her about it afterwards.  Elsa had spent most of the day leading up to the party enjoying as much peace and quiet as possible, recharging her batteries, bracing herself for the inevitable attention... and so far, she had enjoyed it. Meeting Andrew MacGuffin's friends was very nice. The meal had been lovely, as was seeing so many people in Traditional Scottish dress.  The venue itself was a delight, its décor and architecture rapidly capturing Elsa's enthusiasm. As for the speeches, well...  
  
That was the thing. She enjoyed listening to all the different speeches. Fergus's ode to the Haggis was a charming rendition of the traditional song, Elinor DunBroch's welcome was most heartfelt and the Toasts to the Lassies and Laddies were full of honest fun, if a bit hard to follow at times. Elsa even enjoyed delivering her own speech, all the eyes in the room looking to her as she shared her knowledge of the bard's life, the very experience helping her to empathise even more with the poet's life and works. Yet somehow, when thinking back to that particular experience...  
  
Her stomach felt like lead as she pictured eyes that had turned the colour of a stormy sky. Ginger brows had been furrowed as she had taken hold of the microphone. Though the girl had smiled, curly locks had been disturbingly still when Elsa had returned to her seat, her speech delivered and her words at an end.  
  
Elsa had only met Merida DunBroch that evening, but she didn't need a description to note that she was like a force of nature, fierce, open, never still for long. Elsa had made a point not to remark on the redhead's odd reaction to her speech, out of politeness... mostly. There had been a part of fear.  
  
Having the Dingwalls come to her like this, as she'd been puzzling over the mystery of that girl's behaviour? It was unsettling, especially since these folk would normally have delivered that speech. Had Merida been sore over the fact that Elsa was asked to do it instead of them? Had she disapproved of someone talking of the Scottish Bard while wearing the national dress of another country?  
  
But no, that couldn't be, she...  
  
"Elsa, are you okay?" This time it was Jim who interrupted her jumbled thoughts. The young man had an eyebrow quirked up, a hand half raised but hesitant to come any nearer. Elsa tightened her grip on her shawl.  
  
Sensing that the Dingwalls were still awaiting her response, Elsa bit back a sigh.    
"I'm sorree, I... Excuse meg."   
  
Her accent came out thick from embarrassment. She didn't stay to see if they'd understood her. Crossing her arms over her waist, the blonde made her way away from the table. A querying voice followed. She didn't answer. She avoided eye contact, passing tables till she could touch the ramp into the ballroom. She reached the arched entrance leading into the smaller reception area. Here sat a few folk having quiet conversations away from the booming band and loud dancers. A member of staff was stood at the cloakroom desk, eyes glancing up from a paperback novel.   
  
Before they could ask if she wanted anything, Elsa Gyllenblom turned towards the ladies bathrooms and escaped there, desperate to drown out the thumping in her head.  
  
-

 

The dramatic flair of the accordion and drawn out last note from the fiddle announced the end of the dance, much to Kristoff Bjorgman's relief. Merida chortled at his bewilderment at suddenly being allowed to stand still. She also grinned warmly at his wide smile when he realised that he somehow managed to keep up with the rapidly accelerating pace the band had thrown at the dancers.   
  
"Wow, that was... amazing!" The blond man huffed as he tried to catch his breath.  
  
" Weel dane fur yer first time. Ye wur pure guid at follaein th' instructions." Wee Dingwall slapped him on the arm appreciatively. The small Scotsman had done his usual trick of suddenly becoming alive as soon as he hit the dance floor. It was as though a beast lived inside the usually placid soul just waiting for the right music to wake it up.   
  
"Wee Dingwall's richt, Kristoff." Merida leaned upon Dingwall's shoulder, having put to full use his affinity for rapid ceilidh dancing over the past three songs. Kristoff was clearly a champion of endurance just for keeping up in one. "That wis bril'!"  
  
"Haha," Kristoff chuckled, starting to make his way towards their table. "It was fun. I don't know about you, but... I want water now!"  
  
Merida followed, feeling a lot lighter as Dingwall stayed behind, finding a spot on the dance floor alongside MacIntosh and Alice in preparation for the next song. She swung her arms up above her head, stretching the muscles in her shoulders after the workout she'd given them. With a satisfying crick she put them back to her sides before her dress's stitches could protest

  
Their table appeared fairly empty as the two approached, its only occupant being Jim who seemed to be finishing up a short exchange with wee Dingwall's parents. Mister Dingwall in particular seemed quite keen to run up to MacIntosh's father's side as the dark haired man walked by, a tray of drinks in hand.  
"Oye, MacIntosh, hauld up!"  
"Please excuse us..."    
  
Jim didn't seem to mind as the wife went off to catch up with the husband, a fierce frown on the woman's face. He leapt to his feet as Merida and Kristoff reached him, giving them an apologetic smile, clearly intent on returning to the dance floor for another go.  
   
"Hey..." Kristoff caught Jim's sleeve before he could leave. "Where's Elsa?"  
"I think she's in the ladies." The dark haired lad shrugged, before giving Kristoff a big grin. "Nice dancing by the way..."  
  
"Thanks. Go have fun." Kristoff's smile was earnest as he sat down and poured himself a large glass of ice water, fingers deftly catching an ice cube to crunch on first. "Ah, det er bedre."  
  
Merida remained standing and thoughtful as she took a quick sip from her own glass of water. She remembered seeing the platinum blonde woman leaving the table, a fleeting glimpse in the heat of the action. If she recalled correctly that had been somewhere near the start of the Dashing White Sergeant, which hadn't been a short dance. Merida somehow doubted the toilets would be that busy at this time of night.  
  
Oh well, she thought, as she picked up her clutch. She'd go grab another drink at the bar and if the Gyllenblom girl was still nowhere to be seen by then, Merida was going to look and check that she was okay. After her chat with Wendy and that most stress relieving dance, the redhead was keen to have another conversation with Elsa. The pleasantness of their pre-pudding chat was now fresh in her mind. Merida found that she wanted more.  
  
-  
  
Elsa Gyllenblom was feeling a headache building up as she made her way back upstairs towards the building's main doors. She'd managed to splash her face with water and berate herself for a cowardly exit. This wasn't like her, the new her...  But she knew it was all her. It was the exact same Elsa who'd fled during her inauguration party as Arendelle Solutions new director, into that summer's freak snowstorm. It was the same Elsa who was still unlearning years and years of unnecessary fear and concealment. It was the same Elsa who was now fighting through her anxieties rather than shutting them down.    
  
She looked up to the doors, saw the doormen and the odd party-goer glancing out at the increasingly white world outside, and turned away. There was no way she was leaving the party now, if only because she would never forgive herself.   
  
But she wasn't prepared to face people yet. She needed some time to herself, if only to figure out what it was that was bothering her.  
  
So she made her way to the doors opposite the main entrance, the ones that the guests had been directed away from upon arrival, down winding staircases either side. They pulled open easily enough, allowing Elsa through into the area she had suspected would be found there. She smiled as she stepped out onto the balcony. It was easily spotted from the ballroom bellow, balustrades stretching out between the pillars, framing the Burns' Night bunting from above. The small alcove-like spaces behind the balustrades had drawn the eye away from the ceiling, which Elsa now looked towards with a melancholic smile.

  
"You've been through a lot, haven't you?"  She recalled the octagonal roof she'd seen from outside that had hinted at a large inner dome. Instead of being able to see up to the top of its arched supports, a flat tiled ceiling covered up the higher areas.  The only reason she could think of for such a jarring choice was to hide some form of damage, the little that could be seen of the main ceiling arches being nicely shaped, in a similar art deco style to the rest of the building. A beautiful interior that still hid it scars, she liked that.   
  
She stepped down a ledge to where some tables had been set up, her hand sliding off one of the pillars. She turned her gaze to the dance floor and tables below, the band on stage seeming much smaller and more distant from here, the music just that little softer. She smiled as she watched the dancers form long lines, engaging in another rapid dance that she hadn't caught the name of. She found herself looking for a head of red curls, other than Fergus DunBroch's, and was surprised to find that she couldn't spot it.  
  
Elsa would have easily believed that Merida could have danced the entire night away, but then what did she know of the young woman?   
  
She sighed as she thought back to a photo the head ofMordu Oil had shown her just a week ago, as he gushed proudly about his family. The snap had been of a young girl, eyes focussed on a point out of shot. Her arms pulled the string of her bow to her cheek, the feathers of her arrow not quite obscuring the delighted smile on her face. The effect was somewhat more endearing by the fact that she looked to be no more than six years of age, and the bow nearly twice her size.  
"She's always known what she wants, that one..." Fergus had gushed, a proud tear in his eye. "And she's done well." The surrounding trophies and awards had certainly attested to that.  
  
Elsa had kept quiet about the fact that Kristoff had already told her some things of Merida DunBroch's tenacity and fire, and the photo had only served to cement an interest that had already begun to take root. There was something fascinating about a fiery haired Scotswoman who reminded Kristoff of Anna while also boasting such a fiercely independent streak. The tale of MacGuffin's birthday and the night in the town that followed had been very entertaining, if quite alien to Elsa...   
  
That was probably why she was so out of sorts. Her expectations of their meeting and the reality of it... She didn't know why she had expected it to be any different. The two had so little in common. Why should Merida have any interest in talking to her, let alone what Elsa had to say?  
  
Yet she couldn't shake the Scotswoman's striking gaze from her mind. She remembered their conversation during dinner. Eyes the colour of the sky had locked with her own showing a sincere looking curiosity that Elsa had found startling. The same eyes had taken on a dark, near haunted semblance at the start of her speech before her face seemed to glow with approval near the end. She hoped it had been approval. Merida had certainly kept her impressions to herself after the speech...  
  
"Dette er dumt." She scolded herself in Norwegian. Massaging her temple, Elsa couldn't tell if she was getting a headache from the mix of whisky and wine, the noise, or her own self-doubts. Either way, the hair needed to come down. Maybe she would manage to get some semblance of composure back by hanging out with Andrew MacGuffin and Wendy. The two did have quite a mellow and calming presence.  
  
It was only as she pulled her braid down from her bun that Elsa noticed someone else had shown up on the balcony.   
  
"Thare ye are!" Merida DunBroch grinned from the walkway nearby. Placing her drink on the table next to Elsa, she arched an eyebrow. "Mynd if I join ye?"   
  
Surprised, it took Elsa an embarrassingly long time to nod agreement. The redhead's happy smile in return only added to her confusion.  
  
"Sae..."  


-

-


	5. Chapter 5

-  
  
"Sae..." Merida grinned awkwardly, as she sat herself down opposite the silvery blond. "Ye'r nae one fur dancin' then?"  
  
The redhead was pleasantly surprised to find Elsa up on the balcony. Merida had snuck up the stairs, by the kitchens, to the upper floor in the hopes that a bird's eye view of the ballroom might help in finding the Norwegian woman. She hadn't thought that the balcony might have been her refuge. Elsa was certainly looking more relaxed than she had appeared at the table when Merida had last caught sight of her.   
  
In fact Merida was puzzling over how drastic a difference just pulling her bun down had wrought upon Elsa. She was so bewildered by the transformation that she barely caught the woman's answer.  
  
"I... don't dance." A faint blush was barely visible on Elsa's cheeks, the subdued lighting not showing much of the colour. The blonde glanced away as she brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. A gesture Merida found to be endearing. The blonde's hand remained upon her nape as she turned her gaze back to Merida, pale eyes foreboding any raillery.  
  
"Ye-..."  Merida spluttered as her innate response found itself caught upon the cider she'd been sipping. "Ye dinnae?"   
  
It was hard to imagine someone as elegant as this woman, dressed in an outfit that seemed made for dancing, not being able to do so. Especially now that Elsa had let her hair out of that tight bun: the fringe swept back into carefree waves, her long hair winding down into a smooth braid casually brought forward. Surely she was pulling her leg. Merida had no trouble picturing the blonde swirling around in some spotlight, her hair flowing as smoothly as her arms would be graceful.   
  
"Your dancing is wonderful, by the way." The Norwegian woman was changing the subject, but her smile was earnest and there was a crinkle in the corner of her eye. The compliment was clearly heartfelt.   
  
"Nice try." Merida tried to hide her embarrassment with a scowl; she wasn't usually one to feel shy about such compliments. But coming from Elsa, they just... "Let's talk aboot ye.  It doesn't hae tae be aboot dancin' either. Yer speech wis real good!"

  
Elsa rolled her eyes before crossing her arms. She leaned back in her chair as the band below began a slower tune for couples to dance to.   
  
"Thank _you_." If the tone hadn't given away the sarcasm, the arched eyebrow and crooked smirk certainly did. Merida smiled broadly in response. This was more like it! One of Elsa's hands arched up to gesture in her direction. "So, what would you like to know about me?"

  
Apart from why you came up here, Merida thought, gee, one wonders... She glanced out to the dance floor below, looking for inspiration. She had a feeling Elsa wouldn't answer her if she asked directly. Spying her mother and father dancing across the floor, she recalled the mention of Kristoff's girlfriend.   
"Why dinnae ye tell me mair aboot yer sister?"   
  
Spying the slightly puzzled look on Elsa's face, Merida sighed.  
"Your sister, should we talk about her?" It felt really awkward trying to keep to the more neutral English Elsa was clearly accustomed to. The alcohol in her bloodstream was most certainly not helping, but at this point she didn't quite want to put the cider down. "Ye and Kristoff both seem very fond of the lass."

  
"I..." Understanding slowly dawning on Elsa's features, she looked out towards the dancers below, hesitation melting into a warm smile. "Ah, yes. Anna."  
  
"She's my younger sister, and my complete opposite. She loves parties like this, with dancing, loud music and conversations." She chuckles softly as she spots Kristoff down below, scratching his head and looking a bit lost by the bar. "She trusts people easily, and never gives up on those she loves."

  
Merida listened patiently, warm recognition in her breast at the tenderness with which Elsa spoke of her sibling.

"Who's the older of you two?" She asked, wondering how much of a gap there was between them. It couldn't be a big one. If Merida had to guess, Anna sounded like a swell sister, maybe a year or two older than Elsa, perhaps? But no, that couldn't be right...  
  
"She is younger than me, three years younger." Elsa confirmed. Her blue eyes turned to the redhead. They seemed to be measuring her up, as though determining how much she could be trusted with. Ultimately, she must have thought Merida worthy, for the blonde leaned forward on the table and spoke on in a conspiratorial fashion. "There was one time, at a party, where the only way I could get some old man, a cousin of an uncle I think, to leave me alone was to offer up Anna as an alternative dancing partner."   
  
Stunned, both by the width of the age gap and the following anecdote, Merida gasped.  
"Ye didnae!"  
  
"I did." Elsa had seemingly grasped that modicum of Merida's accent. "It was cruel of me. I had seen his dancing... But there was no way I would be forced to dance with someone trying to imitate a monkey and a peacock in the same move."  
  
Merida laughed as Elsa went on to describe the various contortions this Anna had been forced to try and dance around, a snort escaping as Elsa revealed the old man had been wearing a poorly affixed toupee. The slight frown that had still been on Elsa's face as Merida joined her was slowly fading away. The platinum blonde even allowed herself a chuckle as Merida stood up to try and figure out the manoeuvre Elsa had just described.  
  
"Hell's bells!" Merida exclaimed as she landed heavily on her rump, having fallen onto the higher ledge in her antics. "How lang did this dance gang on fur? Did yer sister nae try and git oot o' it?"  
  
It took the Norwegian woman a moment to compose herself from her quiet laughter, and another to process the question. "Oh, it didn't go on much longer than a couple of minutes. Anna bowed out as soon as she could. She's always full of energy and even that exhausted her. I don't think he even noticed when she left."  
  
"Och me.  Aye, ye are still a stinker for putting yer wee sis thro' that!" The redhead wiped a tear from her eye as she carefully got back to her feet, now doubly glad for the sensible shoes she had favoured. "Ah dinnae think even ah wid force a sibling o'mine thro' an ordeal lik' that."  
  
She only just caught the bitter look on Elsa's face as she sat back down at the small table. Merida could barely hear what the other muttered as the band started a rather louder song to cheers of appreciation from the ballroom below.  
"...I know. Anna deserves so much better than a freak of a sister like me."  
  
Noticing that Merida seemed to have caught some of her aside, Elsa quickly moved the conversation on. Merida was starting to get the impression the woman was a master at misdirection.  
"What about your siblings? You father mentioned some sons, but said little apart from them being the cause of most of his grey hairs."  
  
"Ach, the wee devils!" Merida shook her head, clutching at her scalp in mock despair, before grinning impishly. "Ah will ne'er ken what I did tae deserve them three!"

  
In front of Elsa's watchful gaze, Merida continued, making a moderate effort to keep her enthusiasm from compromising the blonde's understanding.  
"The boys are triplets: Harris, Hamish and Hubert. They've just turned seven and all that has done is make them taller, noisier and even wiser to new ways of causing trouble. Ever since they learnt to walk mah brothers hae bin inseparable 'n' hell-bent oan finding new ways tae torment folk." Her accent started to get the better of her. She went on, syllables clipping out at a rapid trot. "They've bin tripping up mah faither and rattling mither sin' afore they cuid blether. Hell, ah mind this yin time whin they..."  


Her flow broke as she noticed Elsa's expression. The blonde seemed stunned by the flow of Merida's words, eyes wide in confusion and jaw slightly loose as her first attempt to ask the redhead to slow down clearly died on her lips. Blushing fiercely Merida recalled how hard she found it to stick to neutral English when she started talking at full rattle. She fought hard to find the right words to summarize...  
"I mean... All that tae say..." And then she found them, and the warm glow in her chest made them that much easier to deliver. She smiled. "They're called wee devils for a reason, but ah'm glad tae be their sister. For all their trouble, they are fierce protectors, clever allies and I wouldn't give them up for the world."

 

The balcony remained quiet a moment, Merida too shy to watch for Elsa's reaction. She tried to distract herself with the spectacle of dancers below, somehow certain that she could hear her father below them. She cringed. She recognized the start to his yearly rendition of tale of Drunken Fergus versus the Dire HaggisMordu. She hadn't expected it this early on in the evening.  
  
A muffled chuckle brought her attention back to the woman sitting across from her.  
"Not one for world conquest then." Elsa was smirking, her phrasing clearly an attempt at humour, mimicking Merida's hail from earlier... Yet the redhead could still perceive some distance in Elsa's eyes, remnants from her last comment of her sister. The blonde sighed. "Anna isn't either. My sister would rather climb to the top of a mountain in a blizzard than be rid of me. I'm guessing you would do the same for them. Your brothers must be glad to have you."   


Merida looked at the other woman, really looked at her face, her body language. Something in her mind clicked, recognition. She felt a shiver run down her spine, a cold breeze pass across her arms and legs as she recalled what it was Elsa's expression reminded her of.  
  
In her mind's eye, Merida was once more sixteen, collapsed in front of a mirror, crying her heart out in shame. Regret: that was what she recognized, regret and shame.  
  
"I..."  
  
Three boys who were barely tall enough to see over the edge of the table, eyes red and their limbs uncharacteristically limp. Understanding had failed her then... Until she'd seen what little was left of the cake on the table - her crime.  
  
"Ah wasnae always so..."  
  
Her mother, ill, bare and weak, as the effects of the drug finally wore off: Merida had wept openly then, hot blubbering tears of relief at seeing recognition in Elinor's eyes.  
  
Silence came between her and Elsa, thick and tense as Merida fought the memories. Her skin prickled. Her jaw hurt. She didn't realize there'd been a buzzing in her ears until the blonde's voice cut through, clearing it away. She heard the band once more, the chatter below, as blood rushed up to her cheeks and neck, chasing away the cold embrace of remembrance. It was only then that she released the tight white-knuckled hold on her empty pint glass. Merida sensed that she'd not been far off from cracking it.  
  
"Wha-?"  
  
Merida's stormy blue eyes looked up into a gaze that was warmer than she remembered.  Elsa smiled, a melancholy smile that had none of the guardedness she'd come to associate with her.  
  
"Hey, I just wanted to say..." For a brief moment, the redhead was afraid that she was going to ask about her moment of absence. "Thank you for coming to find me. It seems that your company was exactly what I needed to still my frayed nerves and headache."  
  
The voice Elsa used was soft, gentle and undemanding. It wasn't hard for Merida to read the hidden meaning behind her words, her hand outstretched towards hers, the unspoken understanding. Merida gulped down the last of her nerves, gingerly shaking the proffered hand.      
  
"T'is nae bother..." Her voice hadn't quite regained its usual level of cheerfulness, but she knew now that Elsa would make no comment.  She really appreciated that. "I didnae realise ye had a sore heid. Do ye want me tae get ye some water?"  
  
Elsa shook her head as Merida gestured with her empty cider glass.   
"No thank you. To be honest I'd much rather get some..." A pause, as the Norwegian woman seemed to mentally check that the word she wanted to use next was the right one. "Chocolate. Do they sell any?"  
  
Seeing her nod towards the bar below, Merida raised her brows. She could recall seeing people buy chocolate in the ballroom, during concerts or dance shows, but never during an evening dinner of this calibre. In fact she could recall some complaints to that effect from someone at the bar when she'd last purchased a drink.  
  
"Sorry. Ah dinnae think they hae any 'n stock. But..." She rummaged around, finding her clutch purse that had fallen off the table onto the floor. A quick unzip later and she pulled out a napkin folded around some lumps. "Ah've got some tablet! From the table..."  
  
Seeing Elsa's startled look she added. "Whit? Mah brothers love 'em some sweets."   


At this the blonde let out a short laugh, her hand not hiding it as she reached out for the proffered treat.  
"I thought you had a hidden chocolate bar in there for a second. Thank you."  
  
"Chocolate? In mah purse? Euch, yuck!" Seeing that Elsa had taken one from the handful of squares, Merida folded the napkin back around them. She'd had one earlier, alongside the post meal teas and coffees. The seemingly hard block instantly crumbled and dissolved in her mouth, the rush of sugar instantly reminding her why she only considered it a sometimes treat. "Ah dinnae like chocolate. Ah dinnae have much of a taste fur sweeties tae be honest. Ah prefer fresh fruit."  
And right then, she would have loved an apple to bite into and rid her teeth of the memory of tablet.  
  
The look Elsa was giving her now was one of pure disbelief.  
"Okay, I had a hard time believing you were real when Kristoff told me you managed to throw a dart on target after four pints in a crowded room with your back turned, but now I know you're make believe. How can you not like chocolate?"

 

"The same way ah always hit mah target: ah just dae!" So that's what Kristoff had told the woman. Merida could feel her cheeks burn as she tried, vainly, to recall the incident. Dart games were, thanks to her archery reputation, far too common when she went out drinking with the lads. She pinched the bridge of her nose.   
  
"So you just... Was it... Has Archery always been easy for you?" Elsa's voice sounded so small and shy, Merida looked back up. It suddenly struck her that the Norwegian woman had beautiful hands. Long flawless and slender things, with none of the calluses and cuts her own inevitably gained: they were wringing themselves.   
  
She sighed.  
"Nae really, no." She smiled; remembering the occasion upon which she'd first shot an arrow. She had borrowed her father's bow in an impromptu lesson during a camping trip. All of six years old, candles yet to be blown out, her father had felt the need to immortalize the moment with a snap that even now hung in pride of place in his office. He'd then given her a small bow of her own that she could actually draw. "The first time ah actually shot an arrow, ah missed the target by a guid twenty metres."   
  
The trek into the woods to fetch the projectile had been an adventure in itself, fun, mystery and magic all packaged in one. She had loved every second of it, despite failing to even chip the edges of her target. In hindsight the fact that she'd been able to overshoot the target by that range during her first lesson was very impressive, but she hadn't realized it then.   
"Ah'd spent hours watching Da' practice, and I guess thar was just somethin' about it that connected wi' me. It just felt right to dae it, tae learn it. Did ye never find that, an activity ye could just lose yerself in?"  
  
The hands had stopped their dreadful wringing, much to Merida's relief. One of them was now stroking Elsa's braid, as the blonde seemed lost in thought. The ceilidh band was taking a much deserved break, it's musicians as tired out as the most dedicated dancers on the floor below. The redhead watched as Elsa's eyes trailed the hall, head tilting slightly.  
  
"There was... one thing." Her pale eyes turned to catch Merida's gaze, a mutter escaping her lips before she found the English term. "Skating... Skating on ice. I always could... loose myself in it."  
  
A fire sparked in Merida's mind, her imagination trying to picture the Norwegian woman on ice only to offer up a more practical solution.  
"Will ye show me?" The enthusiasm in the Scottish girl's voice was blatant even to her own ears.  
  
Elsa smiled tightly, flinging her braid behind her back as she meticulously folded her hands in her lap.  
"It may be sleeting outside, but I have neither ice nor skates with which to demonstrate."   
  
"Oh, dinnae worry aboot that!" Merida was already pulling out a mobile phone from her clutch as she stood up. A wicked grin on her face, she silently dared the other woman to back out. "Ah'm sure I can arrange that."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Ah'm gonna go grab my cloak, ye might want to grab yer own coat. I hear it is cold oot." The redhead was already at the door leading back to the lobby. "Meet ye back here in twa minutes, the time to make a short call?"    
  
Hearing the uncertainty making a surprise appearance at the end of her question, Elsa replied without thinking.  
"Uh... Okay."  
  
"Great! We should get back afore anyone starts to really worry aboot us. This is going to be fun!"  
  
It wasn't till the redhead had returned two minutes later, a great cloak swirling around her shoulders that Elsa realised she had been serious.  
  
\- 


	6. Chapter 6

-  


Cold, swirling white and furious greeted them as they stepped outside. The doorman had warned them, but that hadn't stopped them. Elsa had the feeling that very little could physically stop the redhead beside her.

 

"Woah, chilly!" The Scottish woman pulled her billowing cloak tighter around her shoulders, the hood barely managing to stay atop of her fiery curls. "Com' oan, t'is this way!"  


The blonde glanced up. The snowflakes were riding the wind in wild curls all around them, catching light and night in equal measure. Through it she could just make out Merida's eyes twinkling at her from the shadow of the hood. She had her bare arm stretched out towards her. Already Elsa could see the goose bumps forming along her skin, the flesh turning pale in the wind and snow. Not wanting Merida to stay out in the elements any longer than she had to, Elsa took hold of the hand.  
  
She debated whether to turn back, refuse the woman's kind offer of an escape from the crowded ballroom and increasingly drunk dancers. But then she was tugged along, away from the safety of the spotlights to the obscured pavement around the corner. The hand slipped away from hers as Merida twirled around. She heard her companion's laughter as she spun and leapt through the snow. It was accumulating quickly on the ground. Elsa herself started to feel exhilarated. There was a quiet thrill in sneaking away from the party, and the weather reminded her of childhood dares, of a more recent escapade, and of fun and understanding. She loved the way the flakes of snow pattered across her face, the bite of the cold as it chased away the weight that had accumulated on her shoulders. It gave her new life, opened her eyes, and sharpened her mind.  
  
"Look!" She exclaimed, pointing across the street. One couldn't see the sea for the blizzard, but something had moved. "There: a fox!"  
  
 And sure enough, there was the beast, trotting across the snow through the flakes. Its red fur was quickly matted with snow. It paused a moment, turning its head and ears towards them, before darting out of sight.

 

"Nice, tha' was a big one! Well spotted."  
  
Elsa smiled as Merida hurried her along. The fresh air was doing wonders for her headache, now well and truly gone. The company certainly didn't hurt either.  
  
"You said it wasn't far?" She asked, suddenly mindful of how poorly her shawl would fare with this damp. Already she could feel water trickling along the skin of her arms and gathering in her shoes. She didn't mind it now, but it could become a problem later if they didn't leave the elements soon. Merida certainly looked like the cold was biting deep, despite her wide smile.  
  
"Just o'er thar," was the reply, a caped arm pointing to their left. "Watch yer step, we're goin' doon these stairs."  
  
It took them all of five minutes to reach the door she was after, just visible as Elsa took the first step. The strong wind and poor visibility slowed them down, in addition to the slippery conditions underfoot, but they managed. As Merida slid towards the door, Elsa glanced up at the big glass walls around it. Slush accumulated against them, obscuring what little could be seen of the interior had there been any decent lighting inside. As it was, the building looked deserted, and the blonde was feeling a bit foolish standing there while Merida hammered away at the door. Had the girl had so much to drink that she forgot what time it was? Elsa could barely make out the sign indicating the building's opening times, but she was fairly certain it didn't include any time beyond ten at night.

 

"Rah, open up ye darn slackers!" Each hit of Merida's fists made a slop of snow thunk heavily to the ground as more powder stuck to the glass. Elsa could see the girl shivering now, her breath coming out in small wisps of steam. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. Elsa pulled her shawl, now powdered and drenched, tighter around her shoulders.  
  
Some noise came from the other side, as a small light seemed to turn on somewhere.  
"Alright, alright, alright! I hear you. There's no need to break the door down." A jangle of keys, a scrape and a click saw the two young women sigh with relief at the door opening. "You redhead hooligan..."  
  
A gangly youth of indeterminate age pulled the glass door to, smirking facetiously at Merida as she barrelled passed him into the warmth.  
  
"Houah!" By the time Elsa had stepped through the threshold, her companion was already stomping her feet and rubbing life back into her bare arms rapidly, hissing as her teeth chattered. "Cold, cold, cold..."  
  
"Well you did come through a blizzard in nought but a dinner dress and fancy cape." Her friend jibed, before turning his gaze to Elsa as he closed the door. Noticing that she had even less protection from the elements than Merida, he raised an eyebrow. The only sign that she was even mildly feeling the cold, apart from her pale complexion, was her arms crossed tightly across her chest. He whistled. "You, I like. You've got balls."  
  
For all response, Merida blew a raspberry at him.  
"Jack, ye're an arse."

 

The young man chuckled at her as he locked the door, leading them beyond the reception counter to the locker area beyond.  
"I'm not the one calling up a favour mid-party for some fun that could get your dear friends in deep trouble." The white haired man threw his keys towards a ledge where most of the light was coming from. "Mind you, I am grateful. Old spoilsport was being exceptionally grumpy at me."  
  
"Oi, ah hear' dat!"  
  
Elsa had thought to have had her full of strong accents with the rendition of Rabbie Burns that evening, but she hadn't expected to encounter one from a distinctly more foreign land. It took her a long moment to decipher the quick retort, and she didn't manage to catch any of the grumbling as Jack's friend leapt nimbly over the counter. This was an impressive feat. The man wasn't small.

  
"Bugger Jack, ah jus' wash' that floor." Large dark brows scowled at the slurry that had followed the two women in. Elsa's eyes followed his exasperated gesture, landing at Jack's now noticeably bare toes before she snapped her head back up in surprise. The young man just shrugged, smiling crookedly at his older colleague.  
  
"Bah, is nae as tho' Jack ain't gonna go oot and trudge mair in." Merida chuckled loudly, reminding the tall man of her part in this mess.  
  
"I'll... just go get you guys some towels!"  
  
Elsa barely acknowledged Jack's fast departure as the tall Ice rink employee pulled up his sleeves. His arms were covered with stark and angular tattoos. Taut muscles could be seen twitching beneath his dark skin. The white whiskers on his face twitched as he pulled his lips taut and snarled. Merida just looked him in the eye, neither amused nor backing down.  
  
Just a year ago, Elsa would have turned her gaze away from such a confrontation.  She would have been wringing her hands in discomfort, fighting the fearful thoughts in her head and considering her exit options. Now, however, she just tilted her head, as she looked over the strange man.  
  
He reminded her of someone. She smiled and stepped forward, interrupting the Australian mid rant. At least she thought he sounded Australian. Or was he American?  
  
"Hello," she said, thrusting her hand towards him. It wasn't usually how she liked to introduce herself, but she had a hunch that it might help. "My name is Elsa, Elsa Gyllenblom."  
  
Merida looked on in surprise as the man that had been crouching down to her level leaned back in surprise. His nose twitched a little, and then he shook his head, a big-toothed smile slowing revealing itself.  
  
"Beg yo' pardon. The name's Edmund. Edmund Aster."  He didn't however get the chance to shake her hand as his colleague yelled out.  
  
"Oye, Easter Bunny, dodge this!"  
  
With a sigh, Edmund ducked his head down as Elsa found a towel to be flung into her face with force. Merida laughed loudly as a similar soft thump was heard in her direction.  "Taa, Jack!"  
  
Merida's merriment certainly helped Elsa to overcome any annoyance at the gesture. The warm towel was certainly most welcome.  
  
"Right you lout, back t'work!" She was amused to see that Edmund was bodily lifting the young man over the counter. She now realised it was part of the skate rental booth, a door ajar not far.  
  
"Glad tae see ye figured out Bunnymund already," Merida's voice was an approving whisper. "Most folk are nae tha' quick."  
  
As she watched the interaction between the two men, she smiled warmly.  
"He's not that different from Kristoff really."  
  
-  
  
They both dried themselves out to an acceptable degree, numb fingers and toes warmed up some more by a nearby heater. Said heater already had by it a pair of trainers and a pack of cigarettes, probably Jack's. The two women used it to hang their towels and shoes to dry. They wouldn't be in need of them for a short while. As an afterthought, Elsa added her shawl to the pile. It should be nice and warm by the time they returned for it. Merida made a point of keeping her cloak on, once most of the water had been brushed off.  
  
"Right, what size do you need?"  
   
Jack seemed to have little issue translating the European shoe size Elsa requested, even as Merida tried to puzzle out how such little feet could require such a large number. The white-haired man didn't even need to ask for Merida's size, placing a bulky pair of hard shelled skates on the counter. He smirked as she picked up the bright coloured boots.  
  
"Try not to fall too much."  
It earned him a small punch on the arm.  
  
To Elsa's relief, he found her a pair of more traditional laced shoes, with white leather that smelt of fresh polish. "Thank you."  
  
"Now don't get those shoes too dirty, will you?" He grinned. "We're not here this late at night for fun you know."  
  
"Wouldn't be 'ere if someone hadn't been slacking," came Edmund's gruff drawl. The tall man smiled warmly at them as he rested his mop against the counter. "Have fun. I give you about 'n hour afore we'll need t'chuck you out."  
  
"Surely you mean half an hour?"  
  
The Australian's response to Jack's optimistic request was lost as Merida shoved the now booted Elsa towards the back of the room, the two men's snappy retorts echoing eerily in the otherwise empty building.  
  
"Aw shoot. Could use sum' light 'ere lads!" The redhead barked back as Elsa blinked in the darkness before them. They must have heard her, because they soon heard the distinctive buzz of bulbs coming to life.  
  
A large expanse of ice, half-lit, greeted them, surrounded by a small thin wall. Down one side of the hall were colourful seats from which an audience could watch.  It wasn't a big arena, as these things go, but Elsa smiled. They weren't going to need a big arena after all.  
"Lead the way."  
  
There seemed to be a short hesitation as Merida glanced away from her face, cheeks seemingly still red from the cold outside.  
  
Elsa watched as the young woman took big wobbly steps along the small white wall, hands searching the top for the distinctive crack of a door. She found herself pondering, once more, the redhead's... what was it? Presence? Generosity?  Whatever it was, it just didn't seem to make sense to Elsa. The redhead seemed to draw her eye even amongst the darkened crowd she had faced during her speech. She knew she couldn't blame such an awareness of the girl solely on Kristoff's tales, nor on her recent business association with her father... Merida wasn't even involved in his trade as far as she could tell.  
  
With a click and pump of her fist, the young DunBroch opened the gate, messy dark curls falling heavily about her face as she smiled at Elsa, her blue eyes lighting up her entire face in delight.  
"There we go!"  
  
Recognition stirred in Elsa's chest as she made to follow Merida onto the ice. There was beauty in the girl's smile that wasn't just aesthetic. There was a childlike earnestness to it, she felt, but also...  
  
"So..." The blonde said, putting her left foot down on the ice first. "How do you know Jack and Edmund?"  
  
Elsa listened happily as Merida explained. The Scottish woman's hands flew as she described her involvement in the city's sports association. She never stood still as she did so, gliding about the ice on legs just a little too straight, her back arching this way and that to compensate. Elsa hummed along as she in turn started to whizz about the ice, legs falling into the old patterns of her childhood jaunts. Her practicing with Anna this past year had certainly helped to clear away the cobwebs, leaving no aches in her calves, just the joy of the push and the glide. She kept her hands clasped behind her back at first, until Merida's tale involved a rather elaborate demonstration of "Bunnymund's" first ski-jump performed on actual snow. The redhead inadvertently launched herself into the nearby wall. Elsa was unsure whether to catch her or laugh, her hands halfway out towards the woman grasping at the wall's edge as a chuckled gasp left her throat.  
  
"Careful! Are you alright?"  
  
"Tch, tis nothin'. Ye shoulda seen Jack slam intae th'wall o'er there during his last hockey match: Wham!" A delightful giggle accompanied Merida's bluster as she stiffly got back to a standing position. "But enough about the lads, we came 'ere so you could show me yer skatin'!"  
  
There it was again, the earnest smile that betrayed no ties to anything but the current moment. Maybe that was what drew Elsa to take note of this woman. Even in the way Kristoff and Fergus had spoken of her, there'd always been that little hint of what Elsa now felt was Merida's defining feature: her inalterable free spirit.  
  
"So we did." Elsa paused for an instant, tapping her chin with her finger in contemplation. Well, if she was going to commit to this unorthodox outing, she might as well make it fun. She felt a broad smirk dimple her cheek. She raised her voice, deliberately putting a hint of mock challenge into it. "Let's see if you can keep up with me!"  
  
And with a wink, she was off.  


-

-

  
Merida's breath was stolen away as she watched the Norwegian visitor kick off to a flying start around the ice arena. She wasn't certain she had ever seen anyone go from still to such a high speed so quickly with skates. Where Elsa had previously been swerving to and fro around her before, feet smoothly gliding across the ice as though she were floating, now she was leaping and flying, her long arms arching gracefully into poses that reminded Merida of dancers in the ballets her mother sometimes enjoyed. With a delayed jolt of awareness, the redhead remembered Elsa's challenge and started to move along the ice at a much jerkier pace. She never did get the hang of moving in skates without a small ache building from her ankles up, but she was certainly able to skate and watch Elsa's performance.  
  
It was stunning. The ankle length skirt of her Bunad seemed to be no obstacle as she turned it into the wings with which her legs flew. The dark blue of her bodice only helped to draw the eye to the white sleeves that clung close and near translucent still to her arms as they flowed around her. Despite their best efforts, Elsa and Merida's clothes still had some damp and snow clinging to them. Merida could even spot some glistening flakes in Elsa's braid as she skid to a stop and turn right in front of her, making the redhead stumble in surprise. It was exhilarating to see the normally reserved woman suddenly so energetic and free. It made her wonder why she couldn't be like that all the time... and it also reminded her of a similar feeling she'd had once, all of four years ago.  
  
The memory was a sobering one. Her teal boots slid to a halt as she felt her limbs go slack. Merida brushed a still damp strand of hair away from her forehead as Elsa continued to show off with an elaborate spin.  
  
"Ye really are fearless."  
  
The words had spilt out in a quiet utterance, but they seemed to reach Elsa. The blonde slowed down to a slow glide, a surprised frown forming upon her flushed face. Brushing back a wayward lock of her own hair, Elsa gazed into Merida's eyes, irises as cold as ice.  
  
"I am not fearless..." There was a small quiver in her voice, her accent thick but there was no anger or flippancy in her tone. There was no resentment in her eyes, nor was there fright... Instead all Merida could glean from the suddenly sullen expression on Elsa's face was concern.  
  
They stood a moment, in the half light of the ice rink, mere feet apart atop ice as white as clouds. Merida was unsure what to say, how to defuse this moment of awkward tension that had flared up from nowhere, everywhere, from the lingering feeling of guilt and remorse in her chest.  
  
Something must have shown on her face, for Elsa turned away, her eyes downcast, her hands curled into her sides. Merida had ruined it, she was sure. The moment of freedom and fun was over and the blonde would return to being that bystander, watching the party from afar with melancholy in her eyes.  
  
And then Elsa spoke.  
"The day I... became director of Arendelle Løsninger..." The blonde's head rose up, as if looking to the windows above the small café that lay dark an empty.  "I was very much full of fear."  
  
"But... Ye're nae now." Hesitantly Merida stepped closer, forgetting momentarily that she was wearing skates and not shoes. She threatened to topple, but caught herself. "Ah... Ah cannae imagine ye afraid... Yer speech was brave and delivered without a single sign o' anythin' but confidence. 'Ell, ye came here with me and can skate like a queen without any worry..."  
  
She was waffling. Heaven knows her mother disapproved of waffling. Merida groaned as she tried to gather her thoughts.  
  
Elsa must have sensed her discomfort for she looked over her shoulder with a commiserating smile.  
"I guess facing my worst fears has its advantages..."  
  
"Whit?"  
  
Relenting, Elsa turned back to face the redhead, reaching for her hands as she started to skate along the ice with her.  
  
"I mentioned earlier, didn't I, about my sister?" Elsa's fingers felt so cold in Merida's palms. "How she'd rather climb a mountain than be rid of me?"  
  
Merida waited in silence for Elsa to continue, their feet moving across the ice in a slow rhythm that helped keep her floundering emotions in check.  
  
"Well she did pretty much that. I had run away, fled into the mountains in the middle of a freak summer snowstorm. She followed." The blonde's eyes seemed to glisten at the recollection. "I... Neither of us was dressed for the weather, really. I think I was already suffering from, what do you call it, Hypothermia? When she found me... She cracked her head once, when she was little, and I always blamed myself. I spent over ten years fretting and worrying that it might happen again, that I would hurt her."  
  
A sniffle sounded. Dread filled Merida's stomach as she spotted tears in Elsa's eyes.  
"Well stubborn Anna wouldn't let me throw my life away that day. She was so determined to show me how much I meant to her, that she loved me... that it finally happened." Elsa's skates braked, bringing them to a standstill. "I should have been the one to fall, to get injured. Instead she saved me, and nearly lost her heart in the process."  
  
"... That's..." Merida wasn't sure how to respond. She could see, could read every emotion on Elsa's face as though she'd lived it. There were no words for such a feeling.  
  
"The three days my sister spent in hospital were the worst three days of my existence. After seeing that fear come true, and miraculously getting my sister back? I figured there was no point wasting time being afraid." A bittersweet smile graced the Norwegian woman's face. Her hands released Merida's as she rubbed the moisture from her cheeks with a heavy sigh. "Beklager... I'm sorry."  
  
"Dinnae be..." It was Merida's turn now to bow her head, biting her lip as she sought out her next words. While their awkward silence carried on Elsa seemed to lose herself in a reverie, guiding their dance across the ice into increasingly complex patterns.  
  
"I... Ah once thought meself tae be fearless." Merida finally confessed. "Ah would go explore th'darkest woods, seek tae climb th'tallest rocks 'n' cliffs. Ah never let anyone tell me whit tae do, nae withoot a fight."  
  
She chuckled darkly. "There were many fights. My mother, well, she did whit mothers do... Every word oot her gob was aboot how doin' this or that would prepare me for mah future. One day... She went tae far." At this Elinor's daughter raised her eyes to meet Elsa's, the Norwegian woman clearly listening to every word. Their skates had slowed down to a near standstill.  
  
Merida pondered there and then whether to tell the blonde all of it. To tell her how her mother had been so insistent that Merida start a relationship with some boy, that she had tried to set her up with the sons of her father's associates. Yet how could she explain it? Even the boys involved had had some issue at the time trying to understand Merida's reluctance, her vision of romance as little more than a ball and chain.  
  
So she didn't.  
"T'was th'straw that broke th'camel's back, ah suppose... We rowed so fiercely it as guid as came tae blows. We both went tae far... 'N then ah ran off 'n' did something monumentally stupid."  
  
At this Merida broke away from Elsa. Her arms flew up to the ceiling as shame flooded through her. The words were out before she could think how better to phrase them, how quiet to keep her voice.  
"Ah went and bought her drugs."  
  
"You... What?"  
  
Understandably, Elsa looked taken aback, eyes wide and posture skittish. It was too late to turn back now. If Elinor found out Merida was telling Elsa all of this, she would probably kill her... but it needed out. Over four years Merida had been stewing over her guilt, unable to speak of the ordeal to anyone who hadn't been involved. Elsa was the first person that Merida ever felt such a connection with. She could only hope that this wouldn't drive her away, that her judgment won't be too harsh.  
  
"Ah found an auld wifey who baked cakes wi' illegal drugs in 'em..." The redhead's voice was nearly a whisper, her arms wrapping themselves around her stomach. "Ah bought all her wood carvings in exchange fur one... N' then gifted it tae mah mother as an apology, but t'was really in the hopes that th' drugs would get her tae lay off fur a while."  
  
"They nearly killed her. T'was th'worst mistake o' me life." Merida sighed, surprised to find tears in her eyes. The deep weight in her chest was lifted, but it left an empty void, cold and dark. She forced her voice back to its more natural tone, in an attempt to reach her point. "Sae believe me: ah ken th'difference 'tween fearlessness and bloody stubborn-mindedness."  
  
She closed her eyes, fearful of what Elsa's reaction would be. She didn't expect cold fingers to come and wipe the tears off her cheeks, or the presence of something warm against her forehead. When her eyelids fluttered open, all she could see was Elsa's eyes, dark lashes over wide pupils, her irises an aurora of soft blue. Faint freckles dusted a nose that wasn't scrunched up in scorn. There was no frown in her brow condemning her. Instead all Merida could read was empathy.  
  
"You must be incredibly brave." The Norwegian accent was strong, the words gentle. All Merida could do in response was scoff a little. Elsa ploughed on. "From what I've seen, you and your mother have a strong bond... It can't have been easy to mend."  
  
At that, Merida smiled. Elsa understood, at least on some level. That would do. That would do for now.  
  
"That's enough of me blubbering," the Scots woman pushed back, shaking her head free of tears and dark thoughts. "We came here tae skate, nae share sob stories."  
  
She pushed off, attempting to bend her knees as Elsa had done earlier in a burst of speed. The blonde took a moment longer to follow, an expression on her face that Merida couldn't decipher. It didn't matter though, because soon enough they were skating around the rink, weaving around each other's path with reassuring freedom, neither holding the other back, nor pushing for more.  
  
It was comfortable, just like a night spent in good company by the fire. Sweet melancholy strummed in Merida's heart such that she caught herself humming a tune she hadn't sung in a long time. The words came to mind, smelling of peat and stormy weather. It wasn't long before she was singing them out loud, her Gaelic accent rusty but proud. The lyrics always infused with love.  
  
"A naoidhean bhig, cluinn mo ghuth, Mise ri d' thaobh, O mhaighdean bhàn..."  
  
-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am venturing into unknown territory here - I have little idea how a skating rink is actually run, so any misconceptions? Entirely my own. The gaelic line at the end is from "Noble Maiden Fair", as featured in Brave. Happy Hogmanay!


	7. Chapter 7

-

-

Elsa smiled as she glided around the ice rink, her blades flying in an effortless pattern as she listened to Merida's song. She liked the sound of the Scottish woman's voice, the melancholy joined with tenderness in her tone. She didn't mind not being able to understand the words, the mystery of their meaning adding to its magic. It wasn't like a well polished pop song that one could hear on the radio or on TV. There was an air of ritual about it. Without any apparent thought, Merida was gesturing along with the words, each wave of the hand or shake of the head speaking of a tradition beyond measure. As she progressed through the song, Merida's expression morphed away from morose towards content, her legs finally leaning into the motions of skating with a measure of fluidity, gaining an air of dance as the song flowed and ebbed. Elsa approved.   
  
Now that Merida's song had finished, it was replaced by a gentle humming. The redhead abandoned herself to the motion, circling around in the opposite direction from Elsa. Elsa herself did the same, closing her eyes at times, but making sure to open them at regular intervals so that she didn't collide with her gracious host. She couldn't help but appreciate the striking figure the other woman made. She'd kept her cloak on, its dark fabric swirling around her in slow, weighty motions, as if it needed to keep its owner grounded, lest she flew off. Strong thighs pushed off with great energy, despite the late hour, despite the many energetic dances they'd already taken part in tonight. Every now and then a wide grin would light up Merida's face, taking Elsa by surprise, for it occurred at whim and fancy. It seemed Merida simply thought of something happy and it would flash across her face for the world to see.  
  
It was all very confusing. The girl was nothing but contrasts. She was bright hair and dark eyes. She was youth and experience, tradition and progress, conservative and bold. She was like an open book. She was a mystery. She and Elsa were nothing like each other and yet, in what seemed to be more ways than one, so similar.  
  
She would hate for this night, this escapade together, to be their only and last. It was as Elsa was pondering how to ask Merida if they could hang out again in the future that the interruption came.  
  
"Oi! Time's up."  


Elsa looked up towards the back of the skate rental booth. Edmund Aster stood there, his large arms and torso now covered in a thick coat. He seemed both happy and exhausted, but a flash of fear appeared as he raised his hand. "Wa-!"  
  
The rest of his shout was lost in the clatter that followed. Red filled Elsa's vision. Warm then cold collided with her, as her limbs found themselves tangled in a mess. She cried out, confused and surprised. Her voice was not the only one she heard. By the time the dizzying disorientation of the fall had passed and her body had stilled, all that was left was the thumping heartbeat drumming in her ears. It wasn't hers.  
  
"Ugh." It struck Elsa that the warm pillow she had apparently landed on was breathing. "Jings, crivens, help ma' boab! Owe..."  
  
Sudden panic helped her hands to find purchase on the ice. She pushed herself up, feeling the fire of embarrassment in her cheeks as she recognised Merida beneath her. She was grimacing, pain wrinkling her features. Ice formed in Elsa's gut.    
  
"Bek- Sorry. I am sorry." Careful not to hurt the young woman further, Elsa moved to stand. It took a bit of untangling from Merida's cloak, but in her panic Elsa only noticed Merida's sharp intake of breath and Edmund's shadow hovering over them. She didn't hear his query as she stood up. She barely thought to check for her own scrapes and bruises as she quickly fled to the side of the rink. At the door, she forced herself to stop and breath. Her ears finally started to pick up some words.  
  
"Y'alright?" The ice rink employee's gruff tone was business like as he helped Merida into a sitting position. The redhead looked a little dazed, but she quickly shook off his helping hands.  
"A'm fine! Juist fine!"

 

It was with huge relief that Elsa saw the young woman shakily stand up. A huge weight lifted off her lungs and she felt like she could breathe properly again... But that didn't stop her hands from shaking, her feet from feeling wooden as she took her next step towards the booth, leaving Edmund to help Merida off the ice. Mechanically she made her way forward, tearing the skates off her feet and carrying them till she found Jack. English seemed to fail her for a moment, as she tried to ask him where the facilities were.  
"Toalett?"  
  
Thankfully, he seemed to understand, pointing her in the right direction, a confused look on his face as he clearly held back a flow of questions. She was glad. She wasn't ready to face anyone just now. It was her fault, after all. She knew better than to skate in the opposite direction. She'd allowed herself to be distracted. If Merida was hurt, it would be on her.  
  
She recognised how self-depreciating this line of thought was. Elsa knew she shouldn't, couldn't blame herself for what was clearly an accident, but that knowledge didn't stop her from feeling this way. She didn't need told however, that Merida would not be impressed by such a display. So she ran, and hid. At least the time to splash her face, to shake away her guilt, she needed just a little moment to compose herself. That was all.  
  
-  
  
As falls went, Merida felt, this was one of the worst. She scowled at Bunnymund, fussing like a mother hen to get her off the ice. She was fine, really. Okay, her left knee was making her grit her teeth something awful as it protested fiercely to having any weight put on it, and her ankle was similarly sore, but she had suffered worse falling off of her horse Angus and she knew, as her hands checked over her legs, thank goodness, that nothing was broken or bloodied. What made this fall bad wasn't that it hurt to stand, no. It was her pride, shattered into the shavings of ice at her feet. It was her reluctant appreciation of Edmund's proffered elbow as he helped her off the rink. It was her regret at her lack of foresight:  She had looked up at Edmund's hail without checking her course. She'd known that she and Elsa were away to cross paths any second. She knew now how Elsa had spent years worrying over a childhood accident, thinking she had been to blame. It was only natural that...  
  
Merida hissed as Edmund helped her remove her skates, but it was the memory of Elsa's eyes that put lead into her heart. She had never expected to see fear featured in those ice blue orbs, and frankly she found that the emotion didn't suit the blonde: To have been the one to put that emotion there? Shame ate away at Merida's soul.   
  
"Look lik' you twist' yo' knee n' ankle."  The ice rink employee finished his gentle prodding at her leg, rough hands leaving the tender warm joints to throb gently. "Don't look too bad, no more dancin' tonight, you hear? You'll wanna get sum ice on it and see a doctor in the mornin'. You okay t'walk?"  
  
"I'll..." Merida hissed as she stood up straight, still keeping hold of the wall. She forced herself to smile for her friend, not wanting to worry him further. "I'll be fine."

 Gingerly she stepped forward, letting Edmund take the lead as he lifted her skates towards the booth.  
  
"Whar's Elsa?" She asked, as she found Jack polishing up the Norwegian's white skates. She hobbled a bit, but was getting used to the injury already. Silly girl that she was, it would probably be a couple of weeks before she could run again, and driving would be a no go for a few days. She sighed.   
  
"In the bathroom," Jack answered, puffing his fringe up into the air as he saw the state Merida's skates were in. "What happened? She looked right shaken. And you! You're hobbling!"  
  
Embarrassment flooded her face with warmth. After all the ribbing she'd given Jack for his more dramatic accidental collisions, he wasn't likely to let her live this one down anytime soon.  
  
"Th'two go' distract'd when ah hollered 'em." Edmund said grumpily as he dropped the skates in front of his friend and colleague. "'M away t'clean th'ice. Get these done, I'll meet ye at th'door."

  
The white haired young man raised a quizzical brow, glared down at the scuffed foot wear, and then gave Merida that annoying grin.   
  
"Shut it. Ah dinnae wan' tae hear it." She grumbled as she hobbled barefoot across the cold floor. Her towel and shoes were on the radiator next to one of the vending machines. The bench nearby was calling to her.  The snappiness didn't stop Jack in the least. Merida rolled her eyes at his rude mirth and tuned it out as she gingerly slipped on her flats. She was gladder still now that she hadn't gone for a heel. That would have been torture. Feeling around the inside of her cloak, while soaking in the heavenly warmth of the towel, she found her clutch. The vending machine had given her an idea.  
  
"Bugger." Merida cursed. She didn't have enough coinage. "Ye git change on a fiver, Jack?"

  
Jack stopped his jeering, his hand pausing in the final polishing of her skates.   
"Whatever for?"  
  
For all reply, Merida gestured towards the vending machine, dim as it was. The pain in her leg was still making her grit her teeth, even seated as she was.  
  
"I thought you didn't like chocolate!" His voice was slightly muffled as he went to put the skates away, before leaping over the counter, a plastic bag in hand. "Don't bother feeding the machine, just take some of Bunny's. He won't mind."  
  
"Wah! Wis thar a sale on, lik'?" The redhead's eyes boggled. The bag was heavy with several packets of chocolate bars and cocoa based snacks. "Ah wis wanting tae give him one, as apology for disrupting his nicht... Bu' clearly he winnae need one."  
  
"Is that so?" Chuckling, Jack sat down next to her to unwrap a bar of white chocolate. "Here, one for you. You look like you need it."  
  
Reluctantly, Merida took a bite. She knew she needed the energy after that bodily shock. Still, she pulled a face.  
  
"I imagine your friend will need one too. You know her better than me, pick one for her." He held the bag up, a smirk dancing across his face. Apparently he took a secret pleasure out of sharing out Edmund's treats without asking first.  
  
"Ye sure he wilnae mind?" Merida raised a brow as she took out a large bar of milk chocolate. She recalled Elsa had been disappointed the bar in the ballroom hadn't had any in stock. The bite of sugar seemed to do the trick, as she was starting to feel more like herself once more.  
  
"Course not. He knows I just help myself whenever I get peckish." Jack dodged Merida's swipe as he stood to return to the booth. His smile was less playful as he reached the door, affection shining through. "I'm away to lock up the skates. Bunny should be nearly done. Hopefully Elsa will be out soon and we can all head home."  
  
Somehow, despite the throbbing in her leg and the awkward taste of cocoa butter in her mouth, going home felt like the last thing Merida wanted to do.  
  
-  
  
Elsa focussed on keeping her breathing steady as she examined her own wounds. A scraped knee, a similarly scraped shin, she'd gotten off lightly. She couldn't even tell if it was on ice or blade that her skin had been frayed. It was certainly better than a cut from the latter. She shuddered. That thought wasn't worth having. The buzzing in her ears lessened as she looked into the mirror. A pale ghost stared back, eyes wide, hair messy. A wave of home sickness came over her. She missed her sister, stuck in Arendelle studying for exams. She missed having the vocabulary and elocution to confidently confront awkward situations like this one. Before tears threatened to spill anew, she turned on the tap and splashed her face. The cold water was bracing, even as her fingers went numb.  She found a cloth with which to dry up; Elsa lost track of her thoughts as she clumsily redid the braiding of her hair. It wasn't until she went to leave the bathrooms that Elsa remembered the bliss with which she had been skating before the fall, the joy on Merida's face.   
  
The Scots woman had taken the brunt of the impact. Though she knew her own skates had come nowhere near Merida, Elsa knew there were other ways in which she could have gotten hurt. It was time to find out, take what responsibility was required and put things right. With that thought, she pushed the door to and returned to the locker area by the booth. It was dark, the skate rental shutter pulled down, all but the emergency lighting switched off. She managed to find her shawl and shoes, the last remaining items by the radiator. The shawl's warmth was a weak but welcome substitute to a warm hug. The others had to be by the door, waiting on her. She hoped.  
  
She found two silhouettes standing by the glass windows, stark shadowy shapes outlined by the whiteness outside. Merida was instantly recognizable; her long head of curly hair and arms comfortably crossed instantly striking Elsa as familiar. The other shape, determined to be Jack by height alone, looked as ready to fly off as ever, the thinness of his legs accentuated by a floating poncho, his white hair hidden under his hood.  
  
"Ah, there ya are." 

 

She nearly jumped. Edmund loomed behind her. A small squeak must have left her throat, because he bent down lower, giving her some space, and gestured towards her.   
  
"Take it ya don't need checkin' over? Nothin' sore?" At the enthusiastic shake of her head, he huffed in relief. "Good. Come, we've homes to go to."

  
The tall Australian led the way out the door, keys jangling as he fetched them from his pockets. The large winter coat hid the muscled bend of his arms, and a fluffy hat with ears which went great lengths to explaining Merida and Jack's nickname for him. It did make him look like a large bunny rabbit.  


"Ere." Merida's voice popped up, as the last of them left the relative warmth of the building. She was holding up a crumpled bundle to the oldest Ice Rink assistant. Her tone of voice seemed slightly mollified. "Thanks fur letting us crash in oan yer overtime. Ah promise nae to fall oan yer watch again."  
  
In the soft reflection from the building's security light, Bunny's broad smiled flashed white.   
"Tablet?" The lock clicked and the bundle was inspected. "Ta!" The bundle was quickly tossed into his carrier bag, though a small square quickly made its way to Bunny's mouth. The joy of the sugar fix softened the suspicion in his tone. "Now, take care you two. No dancin' after tha' fall. Ye manage to get home in thi' snow?"  
  
"Dinnae fret, we'll be fine." Merida waved him off as Jack hollered the Australian from the corner of the building. "Since ah dinnae see your bike, ah'm guessing you guys are walking. Better hop to it, afore Jack catches his death waiting on ye."

  
Edmund Aster reluctantly left, grumbling under his breath about weather forecasts and puns, leaving the two women to face the piled up snow alone.  
  
Thankfully, the snowfall had stopped.  
  
Elsa stood a long moment, enjoying the sudden stillness of the night. Her eyes roamed the icy blanket on the ground in front of her. No sign of where the sidewalk stopped and the tarmac started, just twinkling specks of wintry glitter, in amongst the awkward coldness of the shared moment.   
  
"Got ye some chocolate." The whisper came. Elsa felt a stab of guilt upon realizing she'd been avoiding the other's gaze. "Ye said ye were after sum?"  
  
The packet crinkled slightly, its shape reminiscent of many she had seen before. In the half light, Elsa saw Merida's smile, the slight creases near her eyes. There was that freedom again, unaltered and pure. Just seeing that was enough to make her heart soar. She recalled Kristoff's comment that Merida reminded him of Anna, but he was all wrong. Anna was warmth and love. Merida?  
  
Merida was the untamed gale.  
  
"Thank you." The platinum blonde felt herself smiling in turn, her earlier worries nearly forgotten. She took the chocolate, pausing only briefly. "You gave Edmund your brothers' tablet... Are you sure?"  
  
"Ha!" Merida laughed. "T'is fine, ah'll grab sum more at the party somehow. Shall we?"  
  
The snow collapsed effortlessly underfoot, but the weight of it dragged at their feet. Progress was slow as they made their way to the small slope where the stairs had been earlier. The chocolate was opened pretty effortlessly at the pace Merida was setting. Its sweet cocoa flavours helped to still Elsa's nerves further. She enjoyed the sudden dryness of the air, the damp Scottish climate having been one of the first things she'd noticed upon arrival. It and the snow made her think of home, and when they reached the foot of the slope, far from the lonely light of the ice arena, Elsa and Merida both took a moment to admire the sky above them.  
  
"It's... beautiful." She had to remind herself that Merida wouldn't understand if she spoke Norwegian. It didn't stop her from feeling at ease, despite the cold biting into her hands, and her ears starting to burn from the chill.   
  
"It is." The Scotswoman's head was tilted far back, her face pale and peaceful in the starlight. There was something wistful in the way she blinked her eyes and tilted her chin. "I love an open sky."  
  
And then the moment passed. Merida went to step up the slope, winced and stumbled. Elsa, suddenly afraid, caught her and steadied her. She could feel the younger woman shivering despite the thickness of her cloak.  
  
"Er du ok?"

 

"Knee, twisted. T'is alright, ah swear." Merida didn't need help translating Elsa's concerned question, nor the roll of the eyes that followed her reply.  
  
"You are impossible."  
  
-  
  
One arm went around her, Elsa holding her steady as she helped her up to the level of the road. Normally she wouldn't lean into such support, but upon that night, under the rich blanket of the Milky Way, Merida found she didn't care not to.   
  
For someone who for years unwittingly represented the unachievable in Merida's life, Elsa felt welcomingly warm.   
  
-


	8. Chapter 8

-

  
It's been over two years...  
Merida has the thought as she reaches down to change gear. She slows to the roundabout, wondering where it came from. Glimpsing the Ballroom to her right, she smiles, as she always does now, upon recalling the epic snowball fight she and Elsa had joined in after their ice skating antics. Who would have guessed that the parents could be such children, drunkenly building snow forts and challenging each other to battle? Even with her twisted knee and ankle, she'd given them quite the fight. What a night! But the flash of memory soon fades, snow melting away as she drives on...  
  
"It looks like everyone is on the beach," shouts Kristoff from behind her. He is craning his head out the window to get a better view to their left. His hair flutters wildly. It feels good to have the car windows down for a change, today being one of the very rare days where summer seems to exist. The numbers on the sandy expanse are certainly a testament to that.  
  
"It does look like it, doesn't it?" Merida grins, driving them along the boulevard, crowded benches and café tables on either side. "Ye twa picked th'richt day tae sail. Ah bet it wull be hailstones n' cold winds 'ere th'morrow. Ah'm pretty certain this is oor three days o' summer for th'year." She chuckled. As good as it felt to drive with all windows down and bared arms, the Scottish blood in her meant that she still had a thin jacket at hand in case the haar rose.  The cold sea fog was far too common an occurrence on days like this.  
  
"I do like summer..." Elsa is sat in the passenger seat next to her, smiling as she leans out the window, wind making her hair dance hypnotically. Her cheeks are flushed from the heat, her chin resting on her hand as they drive through the old fishing village.    
  
It's noticeable to anyone who knows the platinum blond how much the heat is affecting her. For someone who braves even the coldest days in nothing but a thin top, the transition from long sleeves to short is a big step. She gives Merida a small grin, letting her know she is fine. The three lapse into companionable silence as Merida navigates the small roads around the harbour.  
  
As her Subaru Outback comes to a full stop at a red light, Merida's eye catches the tube from her graduation, carelessly left on the dashboard.  As of four months prior, she is a bachelor of science, somehow with honours. She's managed to negotiate a longer stay in the city thanks to her involvement with the university's archery club, arguing that as a committee member, she needs to help with the handover to her replacement. Now with the student Freshers Fair over and the first meet-ups gone without a hitch, she...  
  
"So, what is next, for you?" Elsa's voice is nearly lost in the sound of traffic, but she hears it. The light turns green. She starts the car moving again. She doesn't need to look to know that Elsa doesn't just mean today.  
  
In the back seat, Kristoff is now on his phone with Anna, his girlfriend, in rapid Norwegian. She catches the odd word from her lessons with the man, but not many. It's a welcome distraction from the chill in her gut.  
  
"Go home, ah guess." Back to her mum and dad's mansion of a house in the highlands, she'd catch up with her horse Angus and her brothers as she pondered the next step in her life. "Look at mah options, maybe fin' a job."

 

As much as it would be nice to get out of the city, somehow Merida isn't looking forward to packing up her things. She's made friends here, but they quickly flew away after their graduation ceremonies. Her summer holiday has mostly been spent on archery and the odd weekend with Kristoff and Elsa, whenever they crossed the North Sea for some business meeting or other. In the two years since they met, it somehow became routine for Merida to put them up in her student flat, Elsa taking the guest room and Kristoff more than happy on the couch. It was apparently a more appealing option than the hotel suites MacGuffin senior once arranged for them. Fergus DunBroch certainly didn't mind Merida accommodating Elsa and Kristoff's preference for a less serviced environment. Not only did it save Mordu Oil a regular expense, but the Norwegian presence also did wonders for Merida's studying habits. Somehow she'd netted first class honours on her degree, to her mother's unending delight...

  
There had never been a plan for after university. Sure, there were notions of returning to her fun and carefree days in the highlands, but after so much time away... It would feel too safe, too samey...  
  
It feels like it would be a step back.  
  
Shaking her head to dislodge such melancholy thoughts, Merida smirks as they reach the old bridge leading to the harbour quay they seek. Crossing the river, they can see large sea faring vessels parked up along either side of the river, a grassy green hill visible in the distance beyond. The outline of the light house and an old stone fort keep vigil over the salty waters.  
  
"Dinnae worry. We'll see each other again soon, am sure."    
  
Elsa turns to Merida at those words, a sweet smile gracing her features.  
"I would like that."  
  
-  


Kristoff once joked that the only other person he saw Elsa hug so freely was her sister. Merida hadn't paid the comment much heed, but she is reminded of it today. The platinum blonde's arms are solidly wrapped around her shoulders as they bid each other farewell. The coolness of her hands was both a welcome relief from the heat and a reminder of how when they first met, the woman was hesitant to even shake hands with folk. Merida was glad she got to become her friend.  
  
The three are standing in front of the Offshore Supply Vessel that will take Kristoff and Elsa home. It seemed odd, at first, that Elsa preferred to undertake the journey between Scotland and Norway by boat rather than plane... but after a few months getting to know the woman, and of her past, it soon made sense. Goodness knows Merida herself doesn't particularly enjoy the thought of being stuck in her allocated seat on a plane, but her parents hadn't also died in one. No, boat it is. And Merida has dropped Elsa off onto her boat home many times in these past two years.  
  
This is to be the last time she does so.  
  
So she is the last to complain when the customary hug goes on for longer than the usual three heartbeats. The hug helps. It kept the emptiness looming in her gut at bay.  
  
"Hae a safe trip." She says weakly, as the platinum blonde finally releases her grip, slender fingers untangling themselves from the messy curls of Merida's hair.  
  
"We will!" Kristoff enthusiastically catches her in a swift bear hug. She returns the favour with a strong squeeze around his midriff. The tall Norwegian chuckles as he lets go. "I am looking forward to a boat trip. Makes a change... I will get to stretch my legs!"

  
"The way you describe the unpleasantness of your plane journeys, I'm surprised it took you this long to give it a go." Elsa's sardonic comment is accompanied by a warm smile. There is no doubt that she will be welcoming his company.  
  
Smiling, Merida hands Kristoff a small package. "T'is guid tae see ye twa aff together fur a change. Say hi to Anna fur me."  
  
"What is that?" Elsa asked, blue eyes peering around a large bicep.  
  
"Some of that Tablet ah made. I figured ye wouldnae mind a snack fur yer voyage." Merida's grin widens as she spies the delight on Elsa's features. Her friend's taste for sweet things has certainly not dwindled over time.  
  
"Tusen takk! Thank you!" As much as Merida anticipated the enthusiastic thank you, she hadn't quite expected it to be accompanied by a kiss on the cheek. It tingles warmly as Kristoff laughs.  
  
"Kom igjen, Elsa. Er seilerne å bli utålmodig." He chides. Merida is fairly pleased to grasp his meaning: the sailors are looking impatient to get going.  
  
The redhead waves enthusiastically as they climb the rest of the plank onto their vessel. Once the two are safely aboard, she goes and sits on the bonnet of her Subaru Outback, watching the preparations as the vessel is set into motion.  There is something soothing in the clunky ritual of it, a nice reflection of the churning waters in her soul. Like the sea waters that feed into the mouth of the river, her calm exterior hides far stronger currents.  
  
This is it. This is goodbye.  
  
Today her old life ends. Tomorrow she puts the remaining boxes into her boot and hands in the keys to her flat. No more goodbyes with the anticipation of an encore. No more awkward Norwegian lessons or engraving contests with Kristoff. No more cold hands or cheeky visits with Elsa to the ice arena after an intense study session.  
  
No more...  


Something snaps inside her as the boat finally moves. It is already heading seawards by the time she slips off her car onto wobbly feet. She doesn't think. She moves. After a step or two, she finds herself jogging, attempting to keep pace with the large ship. Its high round blue nose seems to be moving slowly, but she knows that it is rapidly accelerating. It doesn't stop Merida from running. Soon she's reached the end of the quay, dodging past a barrier onto the pavement beyond. The pavement runs out, she continues on. Her trainers slap down onto the tarmac rhythmically. Her lungs are starting to burn. Her legs ache. For a trained athlete like her, it's a welcome push to keep going.  
  
On the ship, Kristoff notices her. He points out her rapidly shrinking form to his compatriot. Elsa leans on the command deck's railing, a mixture of emotions warring across her face. She settles on amused, endearment in her voice. "Silly Merida. She's going to hurt her leg again."

 

As the road veers away from the water's edge, the redhead scrambles through a gap in the long grasses, onto the coastal path. She threatens to stumble upon old potholes, weeds and uneven rocks, but keeps going. It's hard to see for the hair getting into her eyes. She wishes she had elastic to tie it back with... But more than that, she wishes not to lose sight of her friends' vessel. Already it is moving away into the distance, the widening expanse of sea between them glinting like diamonds. Merida doesn't stop running. She keeps going, beyond the jetty, across sand, shingle and broken rocks. She passes the breakwater that marks the entrance to the harbour. With each breath she tastes the acidic effort of her race. With each stride she feels the exhaustion taking its toll.  
  
She only stops when the coast veers south. Her feet hurt as they touch water. The Arendelle Solutions boat is now nothing but an awkward shape nearing the horizon, but she still sees it. Her breathes ragged she falls into a seating position. A cautious joy tickles her heart, though she doesn't understand why. White dots are dancing in her vision, like the wisps she fervently believed in as a child.  
  
Merida sits content as she recuperates from her run. The boat vanishes into the distance as the sun slowly sets behind her. The sky is coloured purple and lavender, darkening as night rolls in.  A star twinkles as she finally pulls the jacket from her waist to cover her shivering arms.  
  
Merida knows now. She knows what she wants to do.  
  
In the grand scheme of things, it is unsurprising really. Her father has often told tales of his youth spent aboard military vessels. Her mother has keenly waxed on the merits of seeing the world, as Elinor once did before marrying. It was only natural for Merida to follow in their footsteps with a similar thirst for adventure. If the Scottish influence known to exist in many countries across the world was anything to go by, she certainly wouldn't be the first enthralled by the freedom promised in leaving one's own country.  
  
With a beaming smile, Merida pushes herself back onto her feet. She will get to see Elsa again soon enough.  
  
The northern lights flicker in the distance as she makes her way back to the car. They flicker with great promise, for upon that night...  
  
Merida smiles. Her horizons have now broadened considerably.  
  
-

 

- 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of "Upon that Night" but not necessarily the end of this incarnation of Merida and Elsa. (I have a couple of ideas for a continuation floating about!)
> 
> Though I've written dozens of fics by now, this is one of the first that's felt like I was pouring a part of my soul into it. I've drawn inspiration from parts of my life I would normally keep separate from this hobby, such as from a now past workplace and the city I live in.  
> (With a special dedication to Nana, who's enjoyed my rambling stories since I was little.)
> 
> I very much hope that if you've read this far, you have enjoyed the story. I would love to hear your feedback.


End file.
